Calling Brisingr!
by Mistress-Helium
Summary: The last egg has hatched...but who was it to? Tamunora has finally met Eragon...but how can she reveal her identity to him, especially since the miring of politics conspire against her? And how do things stand with everyone else she collides with?
1. Chapter 1

**Calling in Brisingr!**

I used to have this dream, that I would grow up, and leave this town to explore beyond the drawn confines of the map of Alagaësia, where the Dragon Riders of old would travel, bringing back treasures hordes of adventure, discovery and, most importantly, enlightenment. I would spend hours in my father's study, sitting on a pile of some of his books, yet to be sorted, telling him a story that rose from my mind to my tongue like steam from a kettle to drift away into the world. Bent over his potions, I flattered myself that he was listening so intently that he was struggling to remember which concoction had to be combined with which, and would inevitably lead to a loud whoosh and a splutter of smoke as his robe caught fire. My mother would rush in, and take me out, despite my protests as my father doused the flames with magic.

My parents are magicians, but secret ones. If they were discovered, King Galbatorix would instantly suck them into the black hole of his court, and use their powers for convulsive plans, so to keep away from the court, they kept their powers within the house, and became physicians to attempt to put their powers for the force of good. Until recently, I didn't know that they supported the Varden by sending various potions and ensuring the safe delivery of food supplies from Furnost through the desert, which explained either one of them disappearing every month for a week.

Despite these unusual circumstances, and the inheritance of magical ability my brother and I received from birth (apparently, when I was first given to my mother, I flicked my arm, causing her hair to go grey, then red. It's still red to this day.), I believe that we had a normal upbringing. I made lots of friends amongst the girls, with whom I walked to the nearby lake together, sitting on the bank, exchanging news about current affairs, local and empire-wide, and laughing whenever one of us accidently fell in, because of the steep banks.

My brother and I were taught how to read and write, as well as how to control and apply our magic, mathematics, geography, and the history of Alagaësia. This last was my favourite, as it foretold how the Riders rose and fell, as well as how humans and elves arrived to this land from a faraway place, fast followed by the Urgals, who my father portrayed as creatures who loved war, but loved home even more, just like humans. It was forbidden to discuss such topics, as King Galbatorix's iron fist could only stay tight if his race was ignorant of what this fist had done, but my father was a brave man, as was my mother was a stubborn woman who insisted that we learnt "so someone can bring that cursed and befuddled man to his senses by being his equal".

So it was how I spent the first fifteen years of my life, any true power struggles in Alagaësia I was aware of, but only in the same way one sees a scene through a pane of glass; it's difficult to know what was really happening unless you see it with your own eyes, causing me to have a happy but uneasy childhood.

The evenings were beginning to become longer, the sunshine just that little more weaker every day as my fifteenth birthday crept upon us all, the question of my womanhood crouching on the roof of the house, my father being forced to interview various local men for me to be married off to, which wasn't at all to his taste, and ended up throwing them all out, without seeing more than three of them, shouting, "She's not ready! I'm not ready! And you're all DEFINITELY not ready!" This episode was passed around solemnly around the village; sympathy was offered to me from all directions, and I could hear tiny whispers that I would end up being an old maid if my father didn't comply to marrying me off.

Yet I didn't mind if he didn't. As I was out in Furnost with my mother, looking for a suitable dress for me to come of age in for the ceremony four days from then, my mind had almost completely been sewn up; as soon as I had to chance, I was going to stretch those boundaries the map was constricted to, and go and find the mysterious new Rider everyone was talking about.

Apparently, he was only a little short of sixteen, and was from the Spine towards the North-West. He also shared the same name with the first Dragon Rider, Eragon, giving him almost a prophecy quality in my mind. I had to admit, despite taking no interest in the men in my village, a boy I had never met took on extraordinary shape in my mind. The wanted posters portrayed him with thick eyebrows, brown hair and an honest, intelligent face, which I couldn't help but like, despite the fierce expression he was given to induce fears amongst others.

But my mind wasn't completely sewn up. I didn't want to leave my family, because despite the strength of my wanderlust, the strength of home was an anchor to my ship, ready to sail away, just how an Urgal is always called home after battle. I could just see my parents' faces now; pleading, eyes wide, body tense, then when I force myself to shake my head, they visibly slump, eyes close, acceptance and anger emanating them like heat from flames. And my brother? I think he would probably either insist on coming with me, making sure I didn't die, perhaps, or punch me.

I think this decision was made for me, as my father suddenly disappeared the day I bought the dress. This wasn't unusual, as I said one or the other parent often disappeared through my childhood. However, this time was special, as he didn't wear the normal expression; his eyes were bright, black hair all alight, apprehension tensing everything else about him, accentuating the expression on his face. I instantly suspected him, and pestered him about it, but he would tell me nothing. Maybe childishly, I hoped he was going to buy me a really magnificent birthday present; a book, perhaps, or maybe even a dog. We had never had a pet, which saddened me, as I like animals. They have far more scope than humans, particularly in areas where we should be wide awake. We did have two horses, but everyone who has the money to look after them do as well.

Sometimes I wish I could descend into the house in the early hours of that day that would change so much, with so little, and warn myself what would come, that I should step into those boots with more wisdom than I did then, so I could do my parents prouder at times when I didn't at all. Yet then I suppose I would not have learnt anything that way, and I think I would have been even more spooked than I was already.


	2. Chapter 2

_(Thank you very much those who have reviewed the previous chapter. They were very kind comments, and made me all galvanised!)_

**A Gem to Complete the Collection**

What's in a name? When you have a child, or a pet, you are expected to give it a name, as it gets confusing when all dogs are called dog, for if that happened it would be dangerous to take yours for a walk, and you want it to come back to you. Yet when a creature under your care is given a name, it can have a profound effect on their personality, their destiny...

Of course, there's the matter of true names, which my parents go all hushed about. I used to wonder about that, and badger them for information, as I was for anything with a slight whiff of adventure, but their mouths and minds remained closed to me on the subject. I could only guess now that my father or mother was captured once and had their mind broken into for their true name. Could explain my father's eccentricities on his part.

My own name is supposed to have particular importance, as it was the name of a great elf queen, and people gasp in wonder when they learn the origin of it. Yet it doesn't feel real, almost like casting a spell to do the washing up. Yes, you don't have to do it now, but you feel no satisfaction from it. I have done nothing in my life that could match to Queen Tamunora's work alongside the original Eragon to make peace between Dragons and Elves.

Thinking about that makes me laugh, as I remember the days I spent fantasising about meeting him, yet, in a way, I already had.

My birthday morning dawned cold and crisp, like the leaves that lay on the muddy path, another day that strew itself against the road of time. I woke with the sun, rising at roughly the same speed, and to awake myself I washed my face down with some cold water and a cloth, shivering but feel a touch more rejuvenated. I pulled off my bedclothes and cautiously picked up the dress from the windowsill. It was white satin with long sleeves, a sweeping skirt just right for frolicking, and a green bodice to go over the top. With a smile I carefully put it on my bed, resigning myself to what I expected to happen later, and put on a green dress I had brought in from the washing line the previous night, and proceeded down the wooden stairs to the kitchen.

As is custom on a person's birthday, my friends had come to the house, despite the early hour, teasing each other as they yawned, and wished me happy birthday, sighing when my brother walked in, who gave me a book written in the ancient language (I can't read it very well, as I mainly speak it for spells, but I didn't mind at all, of course.) , and my parents sitting by the fireplace; my mother crying for what was really no reason, and my father, winking...

"Tamunora, your present is outside. Come and see it."

Sometimes, I wish I wasn't so adventurous, or I didn't trust my father so much. I bounded after him, skipping with him into the field behind our house, past the broken gate, past the abandoned rope swing my brother broke that previous summer, and past the orchards my mother was so proud of, into the Little Forest.

This forest, just to the east of the lake, always had a certain mythical quality about it. My friends and I, when we were young, used to fantasize that a wild dragon lived in there, and it would have us for dinner if we provoked him too much, but left us alone if we left him some cakes. We used to actually believe that he had eaten them, until we discovered that an innocent fox ate them instead, felling the myth like the men of the village did with the trees.

Yet that morning, the Little Forest felt big and scary again, with weak sunshine shoving its way through the bars of a cage, which is what the tree trunks resembled, and it was with increasing apprehension that I stumbled after my father, who was exuding that same excited aura that he was just a few days before. Before long, I found myself asking, my voice slightly higher than usual,

"Father, where are we actually going?" I gave a shaky laugh, "You're not planning to hand me over to Galbatorix, are you?"

He hesitated, then laughed, "No, no, I would never do that! I would only do that if someone managed to scrub away the dirt he has bathed himself in, and even then with extreme reluctance, as you're not ready to leave home yet, my dear."

Feeling slightly indignant, I countered, "But, father, I'm fifteen now. Fifteen! Surely within the eyes of the law I can leave home and have adventures of my own?"

He nodded distractedly, "Yes, you can, but not quite yet, not yet..." He suddenly stopped, squinting around, and I nearly collided into him.

"What are you looking for? Worms?" I attempted to tease, but apprehension was a vine now, twisting my voice into a high pitch.

He didn't answer, his jaw tightening. For the next ten minutes we stood there, my father posed for action, I extremely puzzled, but I stayed with him, waiting for an explanation.

Suddenly there was a sound that I had never heard before, but I could never mistake. It reminded me of the rush of a river, the flow of a flame, the whistle of the wind...it made me shiver, but I was keen to know where its source was. I looked around eagerly.

My efforts were dashed when the sound faded away, and I sighed, resigned, and I began to turn away back to where we came from, but my father took my arm to stop me. At that moment, the air seemed to implode, then explode into a plethora of colour, first, orange, red, pink, green, blue, purple, green again...I threw myself aside with a yell, but my father stood, as cool as the air not involved in the explosion, watching it all as if it were an interesting theatre show. As the green smoke faded away, a burnt circle in the ferns revealed a shiny, green marble coloured egg.

In gratitude to my education, I knew that this egg had to be a dragon's.

"Father-!" I cried, as soon as I could wrench my words out, "This egg...it isn't something that can handed out as a trinket! What, how, who and...Why?"

My father gently picked up the egg, and placed it in my hands, which was much lighter than it should have been.

"I understand your sentiment." He said gravely, his eyes shining slightly in contradiction, "But it was no mean feat in retrieving the last egg, so I suggest you appreciate it." My mind whirled back to his expression from the three days before, and it all became much clearer as the glass had been smashed; so this is what he was doing!

He must have seen my face, for he chuckled, and said, "At least your mind will be fast enough to understand it all, Tamunora. Peace; all will be fine."

I was aghast, "But, father, surely you...you do realise that this is a sure-fire way of me and this unhatched dragon of becoming under the King's control? That I will be hunted down like Eragon and his dragon until I am? That I am clearly not strong enough to do this? And, also," More realisation flooded in, making me wonder if I could mentally drown, "_This is why you taught me about Dragon lore! _You wanted me to be prepared for a future that only existed in my dreams?"

My father folded his arms, a broad smile still drawn like a bow across his face, in a mock defensive pose, "What, and you didn't want it to come true? Allow me, as your father, to be honest; you've been made for more outrageous things than marrying and settling down just yet, so I stole the egg so I could have the chance for you to be chosen, and have a life of adventure."

I bit my lip. A life of adventure! But... "But what if the dragon doesn't choose me?"

Her father looked pained, the bow loosening, "I hoped you wouldn't say that."

I smiled at him, feeling sympathy, "Father, I'm your daughter; I always think things through." He gave a choked laugh, but his shoulders were slumped. He held out the egg to me, which I stared back at, "And whether it will hatch or not, I think it might need to come into the warm. You've always said that I was a huge whiner when I was a baby, especially when I was cold." I took the egg and wrapped it with my scarf which I pulled off my neck. I felt the little dragon within it shift, but I thought little of it. My father led us back to the house without another word, the air sliding back into normal colours and patterns, the sunshine coming stronger through the bars.


	3. Chapter 3

**Are we leaving or have we left?**

As the day glided as smoothly as the icy sun above through towards the evening, the house warmed with the glow of company, presents waiting upon the table, the fire crackling to the conversation throbbing within, food and future confrontations just waiting to be served. My friends and I left this bubbling cauldron to play Crotchets in the field behind the house. To put the game into simple terms, one person was a crotchet, and everyone else had to escape the crotchet. When the crotchet caught someone, that someone had to hold onto the crotchet's shoulder, continuing in a chain until everyone was in a chain. Those who weren't caught could pull people off the end, as long as they weren't caught by someone else on the chain, in which case they joined the chain as normal.

We were quickly joined by the boys in the village, which cheered up my friends to a suspicious degree, and making me guess of later antics at the climax party my parents were planning for me later. My family aren't wont for money, because of their considerable work for the Varden, so I hoped it would be a nice one so I could leave on a high.

This inevitably returned my thoughts to the egg, now safely tucked away in my warm wardrobe, away from the many eyes in the house. The dragon inside shifted again when I had put it inside, which by then I had assumed that it showed that it was cold, so I covered it more tightly in my scarf, and rubbed a little, which caused that strange sound I had heard in the forest. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sound, locked in a trance, until I heard the door open, which caused me to hastily shut the wardrobe, as my brother's face peered around the door, informing me that my presence was needed. I gently pushed the thought away, promising myself that the next morning I could take the egg with me on my adventure, deliver it to the Varden and gain enough respect to perhaps meet this mysterious Eragon. The excitement I felt was mistaken for birthday jubilation, so nothing could be discerned.

"Gotcha!" I yelped, as I was crotchet, grabbing Ophelia's arm, making her squeak. She has always been shy, our Ophelia, but within she has a wicked sense of humour, that comes out with all the frequency of an Elf from the Northern Forests. This is more often than people think, especially these days.

"Nora that hurt! Why are you so strong? You're not a boy!" I was tempted to reply what I always replied; that I was magician, and those boys could easily become snails if I so wished. They would laugh, and tell me to stop being so silly. One day, I'm afraid my friends will have to mash, eat and digest their words.

Instead, I apologised meekly, and proposed that we swapped if I hurt so much. I noted with slightly exasperated amusement that the boys seemed more relieved than the girls.

As the moon and the sun swung each other around, swapping watches on the world below, secretly winking a secret love affair, or so it sometimes seemed to me, as the moon was oftentimes in the sky the same time as the sun, coloured banners were draped over the sides of the house and various people my age poured into our small estate, chasing each other, swapping casual banter, hopefully not all about me, judging by the words used that made my ears flush red as I rushed up the stairs, all galvanised by running around all afternoon with my friends, to be primped up to a ridiculous quantity by my hyped mother.

She was sitting on my bed, and when she saw my bedraggled appearance, she merely smiled, and began to pull off my dress, pointing to the waiting iron bath, which I sat in, scalding my feet on the hot water, which felt like little pinpricks on my feet, making me gasp. My mother, with the aid of magic, levitated water upon my hair, and scrubbed soap into it, which removed all traces of dirt and grease, leaving my long dark hair shining and clean. Satisfying, she gave me a sponge, which I charmed to scour the mud off my body, and the soap to sluice sweat off of me. When the objects finished their job, I felt strangely different, completely new, like a cut gem carved from a solid block cut from a vein in the ground.

I stepped out of the bath, and my mother dried me with a magicked warm towel which seemed to fatigue her slightly, so I bolstered the spell with my own strength, so I was dried faster. With a sigh, I then stepped into my white dress, which seemed different to how it did that morning. Back then, it was a trinket. Now, it was...a right. I pulled up the neckline as high as possible, feeling rather self conscious, as my mother strapped on the green bodice. She didn't comment, and so nor did I.

She reached into her dress pocket, and retrieved a necklace, made with a silver chain and embodied with a single green emerald. I started, realising that it was grandmother's necklace, and stepped back from my mother, not wanting to wear it, as it was all that remained of my grandmother after being slaughtered by the Forsworn when defending the egg carriers before I was born, resulting in that particular egg being taken. I wondered if there was the irony that the same egg was in my wardrobe, unknown to my mother.

"No Tamunora please put it on. She would want her only female grandchild to wear it with pride. The weight of memory isn't always so hard to bear."

How right my mother was. When I look back now, it was the memories that made me, never mind the future. The future can be changed, with the right or wrong decisions, and it can even be controlled, within reason, but memories? All that can be changed is their presence, and that is tantamount difficult, even with magic interference. So we learn to live with them, and so in living with them, we learn.

I sniffed, feeling my eyes shake slightly, "All right mother, if you insist." I whispered, slightly shakily, and I bent my neck forwards for my mother to reach upwards to my neck, feeling as if an axe may fall without my realising.

My mother finished off my appearance by applying green eye powder to my eyes, black ink to my eyelashes and red ochre to my lips. My hair was bound into a modest bun, put up to show that childish innocence was cast aside and I had to show humility now.

My mother stood back with a heartfelt sigh, and looked me up and down, "I think you'll do," She commented, eyes alight, "Count how many jaws and eyes drop, will you? I need to get the pie out of the oven."

I smiled, "Yes mother." She left the room, humming a sweet tune to herself quietly. I watched her go, and to this day I feverently hope that I will be more subtle on my daughter's fifteenth birthday party.

I slipped in my parents' room next door to see myself in the looking glass. I had honestly only used it once, and that was when I was eleven. I shocked myself by my appearance, for I was much taller than I thought, with a slender waist, long black hair that was like a large bird's nest, interesting green eyes with quizzical eyebrows set with a small nose and mouth. My ears were the funniest, sticking out at an extraordinary angle, making me finally understand why my brother always asked to use my ear to measure angles when he was building a new contraption with his friends.

Yet four years later, I looked much different. Not only was I even taller again, but my hair was in an elegant bun, my face sculpted into a new chiselled shape, with my cheekbones as smooth triangles, my eyes still more interesting and green, and my nose and mouth were bigger. Most of all, my ears weren't at such an extreme angle anymore; they were now steep enough to be mountains, not hills.

"Tamunora! Are you coming down?"

I jumped, my new ears a brighter red, "Just coming!" I called, taking one last peek at myself. I wasn't sure what to make of the person I saw, but I decided that, indeed, she will do.

For the next few hours I felt a little like a castle under siege. I was forced to parry various questions shot from all directions, as well as requests for dances and speeches as the music started, and there was no question of escape. I did my best to socialise, but I discovered quickly that if I wanted adventure, there would be no chance of a celebratory feast and dances afterwards. Rather, it would have to be, for this grumpy old youth, a plate of bread and cheese, some ale and bed.

However, it wasn't all so awful. At one point during the evening, I found myself sat down with a boy I had never met before. Apparently he was the cousin of the baker's son, and after a little to drink, we sat down on the back porch of the house, and, or so I'd like to think, cantered away into the night. Sadly, all we did was talk there, but as we drank more, and moved into the house away from the harsh weather, and the pace increased, he began leaning against me, which I have to admit I didn't mind at all, as he was a good looking boy and alcohol had clouded my senses. It was at one point I admitted to him that my father tried to give me a dragon's egg.

"A dragon's egg, you say?" He slurred, "Do you realise...that...that you could be...you know..._killed _for that?"

"Of course," I sniggered, "But, who gives...a...a...shit about what happens here? On...ly people who live here, yes? Anyway, I'm sure that...that someone migh' spirit it awaaaay!"

"Yes, that's pl-pl...Possible!" He agreed, sluggishly taking a long sip from his tankard, then he widened his eyes into my face, which I found myself liking, "Can you show me this egg, or 'as it been shpririted away?"

Despite my clumsy tongue, I felt myself hesitate; was it safe to show him. I shrugged, deciding that he wouldn't remember in the morning, "Why not?" I led him up to my room, and upon entering my room, he flopped onto my bed, grinning like, well, a drunken fool I suppose! I giggled at the impropriety of it, and opened my wardrobe to show him the egg. It was almost scalding to the touch, near vibrating because of the heat, but I didn't notice as I was too befuddled and proud to notice.

He stroked it, and gave a mock yelp, "Burning silk – now who was smart enough to think of something so genius?! Do you reckon it will hatch to you?"

I shook my head roughly, "Of course not. It didn't choose me." I put down the egg on the bed, when he reached forwards, touching my cheek in an odd manner. I stared at him.

"I chi-choose you." He slurred, his eyes a too brilliant sight for me to bear, and I heard the egg vibrate even more, this time little squeaks perpetuated from it, but I didn't register it, as the attraction I felt for this boy was overpowering and bizarre. I took the hand he had against my face, and ran it down my neck. He used it to pull me to the bed, careful to not land on the egg, and began sliding his nose down over the side of my head, and I reached my lips around to kiss his, but he stopped me, his hand to my lips. He got up, and began pulling off his jerkin. Taking the message, the infusion leading me on, I pulled at his jerkin, and he at my bodice, feverishly fighting to be free of these restricting clothes, to really touch each other...

Within seconds we were down to underclothes, and he reached for the lower part of mine, intent on undoing them. This was when common sense flushed in, like a dam being smashed apart, allowing the water to escape. I caught his hands, feeling scared, and his face did nothing to help, his cheeks red with infuriation, eyes aflame, but shame was there, I like to think now, shame of what would happen if we continued.

Perhaps we stopped at just the right moment, because the egg suddenly began to rock between us, vigorously, furiously, reflecting on the emotions that coursed through both of us. Transfixed, we stared at the egg, watching the truth before our eyes. As the crack appeared, I was convinced that one of us was the new Dragon Rider.

The problem was, who?


	4. Chapter 4

**Between the Walls**

As the crack slid down the egg, we both continued to merely watch, as our brief acquaintance was being destroyed as quickly as the shield that hid the baby dragon, covering up the naked truth, that I didn't even know his name, nor he mine, and that our destinies should never cross again, as this secret, that one of us could have been a dragon rider, but never did, ripped the air apart. I wanted him to leave, with the dragon, and I hoped feverently that he was the Rider, for he might be killed Galbatorix, and I would never have to see him again. This irrational thought horrified me, so I suppressed it, but I suspected that he was thinking exactly the same about me.

A green scaled paw reached out, and strained, its tiny, lean tendons tensing, trying to pull itself out. At this point, I couldn't bear to see it struggle to escape, to enter the world and live, yet defeated by something so small as an egg shell, so with magic, I blasted the rest of shell apart with a muffled bang, which made the dragon stumble as it was revealed. I didn't notice at first that the boy had stood back against the wall, scared, as the dragon, steadying itself, began to remove the membrane that had kept it alive all those years with its rough tongue, seemingly ignoring the both of us.

It was then that he spoke again, his voice rough,

"Well, who owns it then?"

I looked up at him, sensing slight irony, as if the dragon was our baby, and we had to decide who was to have it, "Well, I don't know, do I? We will have to ask...it. Wait, is it a she or he?"

"Now you're asking me questions!" He threw up his hands behind his head and huffed quietly, eying the dragon cautiously, who had finally noticed us, and was giving us a bright, intelligent look that I liked, and noted even more irony; this creature was born only minutes ago, but is acting nicer than hormonal jerkin over there. I wondered if it was possible to die by irony. Hmm, death by irony; sounds fruity.

"Sorry, lad, but it would seem questions are breeding like rabbits without enough grass to feed them. I guess the only way to answer all the questions is for one of us to take the stand and become a Rider."

He looked down at the dragon. Initially, I saw, in my dazed state, fear, as dragons are legendary for their ferocity, but it quickly faded to desire. Anyone who was a Rider would have infinite life, and a sheltered one at that. I didn't know his parent's financial status, but I didn't suspect it was rolling in the dirt. I felt a flicker of disgust at that, but it relieved me; _at least one of us wants to be a Rider_, I thought wryly.

"All right then," He murmured, predictably, trying to look modest, "I'll go first."

He reached out his hand, and touched the dragon's head. Instantly, he was blasted backwards against the wall, almost as quickly as he was before, only with less intent, and he crumpled to the ground, moaning like a baby. The dragon seemed to give a tittering sound, and began casually cleaning its claws. I stepped over casually to the boy.

"Show me your right hand." I instructed him, anxious to know if he had the gedwëy ignasia. I was pleased with myself for remembering what was on all Riders' preferred hand.

He was cradling it, wincing, his eyebrows as tight as the grip his left hand had on his right, but I gave him a hard stare, which convinced him to reluctantly reveal his hand.

It was red, a pure curling red, with angry scattered amber blotches, like little fires setting aflame to previously healthy crops, and there was a weak imprint of white in the centre of his palm, where there was cut. I attempted to heal it with magic, but it merely opened again, spilling blood in the intensity of a war. I felt my own blood leaving my head, making me feel a little dizzy, even more than I was already. I was feeling increasingly sure that this wasn't the gedwëy ignasia.

The boy, his own face pale, but was now quiet, was looking straight at me. I forced myself to look up at him again, and my eyes met with a blank, starved look. I wondered what he wanted more; the dragon, or I, but I decided not to ask.

I didn't get the change to do so in any case, as a soft mewling from behind me reminded us that there was a hungry dragon to feed. At that moment, we were very aware that the house was much quieter, with many of the guests walking away into the distance. Inevitably, my parents would be looking for me, wondering where I had been, and would find the dragon. As much as this boy and I were set to be locked into a never ended vendetta, we needed each other's co-operation.

Therefore, I slipped my clothes on again, making him promise that he would make sure that the dragon would not escape, and I slipped past the people who were standing by the door, and picked up the remaining gobs of meat left on the table, and rushed upstairs, careful to not allow the door to creak.

The dragon was keen to eat what I had, almost taking my fingers down to an extraordinary journey into a dragon's digestive system. The boy was struggling to hold back the dragon as it wrenched itself towards the meat. When it had finished, it flopped down on the bed, and fell asleep. When it had done so, I sat myself down next to the boy. He hadn't bothered redress, and was now looking very strange with only his underclothes on, what with the effects of the drink wearing off. He looked so small, so shocked, that he had done so much in one evening, and I felt a reserve of compassion for him, making me compelled to say sorry to him.

Yet, as such things happen, I didn't get the chance. My door rushed open with a smack against the wall, and my father stood there, a curious look on his face. He looked at me to the boy, and back again, and began to move his mouth.

"Long story, father, please don't ask why." I babbled quickly, waving my hands frantically, "We don't know who made it hatch, I'm sorry! He's just touched it, and he has been given a strange mark, and I don't think it's the gedwëy ignasia, but I can't be too sure...and whoever is the new rider, what will they do then? Spent all eternity evading the empire? Join the Varden? Perhaps even join the King, let the Gods forbid it! And if it was someone else – maybe even you – then it would be great to know, so this situation is a little less awkward, and..."

My father held up his own hand, cutting dead my stumbled rhetoric. He stared straight ahead, and I quickly realised that he was looking directly at the boy, not me nor the dragon.

"What is he doing here?" He asked, so silently that I could have mistaken it for rats scuttling on the floor, "Why is he in a state of undress, in your bedroom? And what on earth did you do to his hand to prevent him?"

I widened my eyes as I caught his meaning, "Father-! It wasn't his fault, it was..."

"No daughter, you shall have no say in this. A man should always instruct every boy he meets." He snatched up the boy by the ear, making him scowl at the pain, and my father proceeded to drag him out of my room, down the stairs, out of the door, and into the night.

I got to my window in time to see my father throw him to the ground, and, despite the fact that I couldn't hear the words, the meaning was clear, as they were moving their lips fast, bodies tense. Eventually, my father marched back into the house and slammed the door, where I heard him swearing under his breath.

The boy simply looked up to my window, his whole soul maimed before my eyes. I tried to smile and wave, but it felt all so fake, and he knew it. He turned on his heel and disappeared up the path, which looked so mysterious and unknown in the creeping darkness.

I flopped back on my bed, my mind buzzing unpleasantly as everything caught up with me. The dragon had been woken up again, and it watched me intently.

"What?" I asked it, annoyed that it had caused so much bother. It tilted its head, its orb like green eyes bright in the ensuing night, which reminded me of my brother when he was younger, when he was confused about something I explained to him he didn't understand. I couldn't help but smirk at this, and without think, reached to touch its snout.

I can't express how much that simple touch. I think I would compare it to a bird flying into a thunder cloud, and its feathers being burnt, the pain not leaving for far too long, its pride ever so slightly diminished. I gasped at the pain, automatically snatching at it just like how he did, trying to squeeze the pain out like one would squeeze water out of a cloth. Eventually, it faded into lightning, a pure little white fire on my palm. This time, I was convinced that this was the gedwëy ignasia, and that the poor boy had only received the pox for his efforts.

"This is how it should be." Came a smug voice from the doorway. I looked up blearily, and distinctly saw my parents, "I told you so."

I swore myself, and I hid my face in my pillow, the dragon mewling for more attention. _Why must life be so complicated? _I screamed in my mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Breaking Current**

The distant rumble of a cart passing on the road sounded like all the water in Alagaësia was gushing into my room, swamping my head into a confused blitz, bubbling and crackling from ear to ear, making me moan at the pain as I awoke the next morning. The water from the distant seas came to join the party with scratching salt into the backs of my eyes when the _dragon _whinged in my ear, obviously demanding food. Again.

The orbs bobbed somewhere just in front of me as I opened my eyes to the torrent, like lights in the ensuing fog that was blurring the light coming into my room. Big, beautiful green ones they were, but a sight I detested as the memories of last night drifted in the still rushing flood like leaves in a waterfall, and I struggled my hand up to push it away from me with an inward growl, yet I missed as they moved back of their own accord.

It was then that my mind buzzed, the flood suddenly being slowly parted, as what felt like a gentle hand reaching for my conscious. I pushed against it at first, scared, yet when it persisted, I realised it possibly was the dragon's consciousness trying to probe mine. Reluctantly, I relaxed, and it continued to my consciousness, where I...I suppose I _saw _an image, which was a plate of beef, and I felt hopeful...

"Maybe in a minute." I mumbled, rubbing my head. The dragon looked pleased and began to gently lick my face, which felt grizzly but not unpleasant, like a cat's tongue. I smiled slightly at the dragon, and with my arm I pushed myself up from the bed, discovering that my hair had fallen out of its bun and I was in my nightdress, the dress from the previous night now in my wardrobe, obliterating any sign of last night ever occurring, apart from the creature on my bed, which was picking at the edge of my blanket with its claws, intent in its game.

I managed to make myself roll over onto the floor, and, muffling, I picked up the dragon and placed it on my shoulder, ignoring its indignant squeaks, and made my slow, ungraceful way downstairs.

To my surprise, I found the kitchen empty of anybody. Last night's party was still in the atmosphere, with the distinct smell of meat and heat imbuing the walls, and the dragon was excited when it saw the meat, hopping off my shoulder and began to gorge itself on leftovers. I knew that food that old wouldn't be good for it, but I didn't care much, as the current continued to roar in my head. Instead, I drew out a chair to sit on, but to my surprise there was a rolled up blanket and two packs, one full, another empty.

At first I was confused, as my parents never usually left their packing lying around for the world to see, but when I allowed my poor, befuddled mind to think about it, it dawned on me that it wasn't just them who would be going to travel soon...

"Good morning, Tamunora!" My father walked in, his face all aglow like the setting sun. I suspected that, in comparison, my face was the haggard moon. I murmured an assent, and asked if the packs were for me.

"Don't miss a trick, do you?" He laughed, making me wince as the current snarled. "Sorry", He whispered, "Forgot that you, ah, lost your way a little last night. But no matter, no matter...that won't deter us from what we need to do!"

I rubbed my brow, feeling slightly irritated, and snapped, "Do what? Take the dragon to where it really should be?"

"Ah, not just the dragon, but you as well! Surely you want to bring down Galbatorix and his Empire and use your powers for the forces of good, hmm?"

This made me hesitate. But only a little bit. "Yes, father, I do. But..." I trailed off, shoulders slumping slightly.

"But what?" Asked my incredulous father, "Surely you want this? And even if you don't, I can see that you have the _Argetlam _to show your status as a Rider, so you will have to, whether you like it or not. Come on, Tamunora; this is the adventure you've always wanted! You aren't just going to cast it away without applied thought, are you?"

I thought hard about this, despite these thoughts running out of air quickly in the still battling torrent in my head. Despite how I didn't like being the Rider, as I have been shown to take extremely rash decisions and therefore would be dangerous to the Varden as I may lead them to destruction. Yet, as that con is heavy, I considered the benefits. I would indeed get an adventure like no other, I could completely avoid that boy if I wanted to, and, finally, inevitably, I remembered Eragon. A friendship would be certain if we were the only two free dragon riders left, as his and my dragon would be the only free dragons left, in the whole of Alagaësia. To run away from such intriguing benefits would be foolishness. However...I had no idea what my eccentric, bookish father had in mind for me. Saddle dangling, perhaps? Or, perhaps more useful, how to die in style?

When I eventually agreed, he clapped his hands happily, and announced that we would be off. Before I could ask if I could say goodbye, my mother and brother appeared, as if on cue, and hugged me, wishing me well, my brother hinting heavily that he should come along too, but mother shushed him, telling him that he could do something on his own.

And so we left the house on our horses, my father trotting with broad strides, myself plodding at a barely recognisable rate in comparison. I didn't want to leave, yet I also wanted to explore the world out there. It's a shame that one can't fold up home and put it in your pocket. Whoever shall invent a way of doing that should be given free everything until the day he dies.

At the end of that day, the current had slowed down, leaving me able to sense the world as it again, and it faded faster and faster as we travelled further and further out of the village, which reminded me of what my mother once mentioned when teaching my brother and I to read; _You are constantly crossing a Rubicon, and the only way back is through fleeting memories in your mind. When you learn to read, you can only distinctly remember not being able to do so. When you leave home, you may forget what living in this house was like. _Remembering that made the current escape through the only way it knew; through my eyes, shining as they were already.

"You haven't named your dragon yet, Tamunora." My father commented that night, as we lay down on blankets, the horses nickering plaintively nearby.

I sighed, "No, I haven't yet, and that's because I don't know its gender, nor what I would call it anyway."

My father itched his head, "I believe that when the egg was procured, the mother claimed that it was male, and males tend to be darker in colour anyway, but brighter in eyes. Suggest a male name to it, and see how it likes it."

I rolled over and studied the dragon, who was awake and watching me intently. It had ridden on my shoulder all day, and despite only being a day old, it still seemed to know more than it should, making me feel fascinated. I probed cautiously for its consciousness, and asked it "W_hat type of name would you like?"_

It titled its head, as if to say, "_Whatever. Anything you fancy really."_

This stumped me, and so I sifted through my knowledge of the ancient language, trying to find a word. I tried many words, but it just laughed at me. So I tried more extravagant names, such as Skoliro Arget (Silver shield), but it just kept laughing. Frustrated, I threw my hands to my head.

Suddenly, I remembered, _Saphira_. If the dragon really was male, then perhaps he should receive a complimenting name to her. I looked at its scales, which were like emeralds. I remembered the colours I was wearing, which were of emeralds. My eyes are emerald coloured, apparently, as were the dragon's, and sadly so were the boy's...

"_How about Emereldo?" _I ventured. The dragon didn't laugh this time; instead I felt a glow of satisfaction, and an unbreakable bond, a powerful bridge was suddenly formed between us. _Emereldo it is then. _I thought with a smile, and fell asleep with the sound of him whistling in my head.


	6. Chapter 6

**Golden**

Don't you just love sunrises? I simply love them, and I used to annoy my family when I was very young, calling for them to wake up and watch the sun stretch its golden limbs over this world of ours, much to their obvious displeasure, but the joy I felt in seeing the sun made me childishly oblivious. As I aged, I realised the impracticalities of doing so, and instead observed the rising in silence.

This obsession, for want of a nicer word, spools over into other things; I love greeting people, but I detest saying goodbye; I like being given a drink, and I'm upset when I finish it, and when I learn something I've long been puzzling over, I want to relearn it, because I feel something is lost. Confusingly, when I forget something, a sense of loss sits itself in my stomach.

In pretty much everything, this mind set has interrupted it all, until I became a Dragon Rider. This wasn't like the sun rising and setting, as the history of dragons weighed down heavily upon me, shredding apart my whole life, which was an intricate and carefully constructed pattern of things I had always assumed would always be, and would not be. It was as if the sun had suddenly gone in reverse, as it remembered that it had forgotten something...

But enough of the idle musings, despite my obvious talent at it! To cut the ridiculously long story short, I travelled with my father and Emereldo for six months, taxed of the body, mind and spirit. I wasn't sure where we were going a lot of the time, but when I caught peeks at the map of the empire my father had in his pack, I would say that we travelled north for the first four months, until we learnt from a pilgrim on the edge of a huge forest, which I later learnt was called Du Weldenvarden, near the village of Rankot, which, interestingly, smelt terrible*, that there was a large amount of Urgals travelling south east, apparently out to capture the much vaunted Eragon and his dragon Saphira.

Of course, my father was very keen for me to join him, despite my physical disadvantage. I expressed this fact one night to him, when sitting by a small campfire, and he raised his eyebrows at me,

"What do mean, Tamunora? I thought you wanted to meet this Eragon? It would make sense, as you're both on the same side, and will need to work together against these Urgals."

I blushed, amused that my father was so observant, "Yes father, but I really don't think that I'm strong enough to face them on my own. Emereldo will soon be strong enough, but not me. He and Saphira will have to operate alone."

_May I interject? _This was Emereldo, who was lying lazily nearby and projecting his thoughts to the both of us. He turned out to be almost exactly like me, apart from the obvious fact that if he poked someone, there would a mess to clean up afterwards. _I believe that I am ready to beat the horns off some Urgals and send them back to their villages, and if I am, then that means you are too, Tamunora. You more than match your father in magic and swordsmanship, and he's as fast as an elf, so I believe you're being modest for attention._

My father laughed, "He's right, you are just being typical Tamunora. Anyway, I'm your father, and I think you should go and join Eragon."

I bowed my head, feeling sheepish, "Agreed, father, but there's a problem. Why did you say 'you'? I don't it's wise for me to go alone..."

"Well, I think you will have to, as we are now surrounded by soldiers..." At that moment, before I could truly register what he had said, twelve soldiers suddenly appeared from behind the bushes, and leapt at my father and I. I snatched at my sword, a second hand one that my brother used when he was younger, and served me well, and drew upon some magic reserves. I threw my sword from side to side, barking words like "Jierda!" or "Slothr!" in an attempt to force the soldiers off my father. I wasn't worried about Emereldo, who was happily snapping at the two soldiers taking him on, as if he was playing an innocent game, but my father...

He seemed to tire suddenly, and fell to the ground, panting. Despite my flurrying attacks, the remaining four soldiers forced me aside, and the largest of them swung father on his back, despite my furious smacks with the sword and screams, and they ran away into the night. Emereldo saw this, and quickly swished over the two soldiers he was teasing with his tail, knocking them unconscious, and roared, a sound that shook my bones to the core, galvanising me into vengeance, into catching up with the soldiers and retrieving my father.

Despite the empty hole suddenly branding upon my mind, the ache of it ever scorching, ever strengthening, spreading across my whole body, until, paralytic, I feel to the ground, reason still cushioned my landing. Emereldo was baying for us to pursue them, to take him back and kill them all, but I saw why they had done it; they would want me to follow them south, to Ûru'baen, so the King could easily capture me and exploit Emereldo and I. As I reasoned this with him, he flopped to the ground, looking sulky but compliant.

I sighed with half hearted relief, and looked towards the south. To my right I saw a lake; to my left I saw plains. The memories of leaving home four months before stood before me, as it looked like I was near to home, with woods behind me, a lake ahead, and plains seemingly rolling forever. My dress was rough-cut, my horse was weary, and I felt a strong sense of home, and I almost felt myself succumb to it, despite being at least eighty leagues away from home, maybe more.

It was Emereldo who brought me back to reality. He touched my head gently with his snout; _Aren't we forgetting something, Tamunora? Call me a sad old fortune teller, but I believe we have a destiny. A destiny to free Alagaësia from a tyrant, save the dragon race and rescue your father._

I frowned at the stars above, so bright yet so icy, like flecks of glass upon the ground, a cold reminder of an accident, an accident that this all ever existed. All things are coincidences, accidents, and we shall just continue allowing them to happen by doing things, because it makes life worth living. Could I really go home without finding my father again anyway? What would mother say? I smiled at Emereldo, strengthened by purpose.

_All right then, but we shall have to sell the horses, which I'm loathe to do, as I may need one in the future, and one alone is too heavy to carry. We could command him to follow us, but that would be cruel. What do you think, Emereldo._

He cast a critical eye over them, _You know what I think. Horses are almost as strange as you humans. I suggest you sell them, as much as it pains you, so we can arrive at wherever we need to go next much faster._

I nodded sagely, my mind suddenly jumping to other things. I picked up the map again, abandoned on the ground where I had dropped it. It was lucky that it has missed the flames.

_Hey Emereldo, _I ventured, _Where do you think the Varden is?_

I felt deep concentration, which amused me, as he looked at the map carefully.

_I would imagine that it would be in the mountains. The Elves live in this forest, but are too isolated and close to the capital to be the situation for the Varden. The desert is unlikely, as the nomads would be a constant threat. The western plains are too populated, especially the coasts, and Surda is neutral. This leaves us with just the mountains to the south._

I stared at the inscription 'Beor Mountains'. It was a long way off, and the peaks looked high...

_When shall we leave?_

He laughed, a laugh that came from a drum within, _When the sun rises, we will also._

I was beginning to like him.


	7. Chapter 7

**New Breaking**

The next morning, as the sun crept its familiar path from the horizon, like a senile predator, expecting to catch prey the same way over and over again, Emereldo nudged me awake with his snout, making me grumble a little, but the soft light soon invigorated me, and I stretched expansively. Without saying anything, I strapped my father's pack to Emereldo, and my own to father's horse, and I pulled myself onto my horse.

The two now familiar green orbs floated above me in the early morning glow; _can we leave now? _Came a reproachful voice in my head, making me laugh.

_Of course, crazy dragon. See you this evening._

_As you wish. _A wash of sadness scoured my mind, surprising me. I trotted the horse towards Emereldo, making her snicker nervously, and touched the side of his face gently.

_It shouldn't be too long, Emereldo. I promise you that I will be alive this evening, and that you shan't become too lonely._

I still felt the sadness, but his shoulders relaxed slightly, _All right, hatchling, but vow to keep your promises. For it would be hypocrisy to oppose the King. _He then suddenly lurched forwards, and took off, his wings so free, that I felt myself take off also, gliding with the liquid sky all around me, body, mind and spirit with its shields shaken off forever. I whooped at the feeling, making the horses panic, and bolted towards the south, leaving me clinging onto both horses desperately.

For the majority of the morning, the horses kept up this wild pace, with Emereldo drifting in the distance, an enigmatic eagle, leaving the predator of the land unable to realise that his true enemy was the King of the skies. Yet, eventually, the horses had to stop to drink, and fairly quickly, Emereldo disappeared below the watchful eye to the East, possibly traversing the desert as the horses drank from the nearby lake. I filled the water skin I kept strapped to my saddle, and rubbed some water onto my face, enjoying the coolness, ad splashed some more in my hair. I didn't mind the dirt in my hair, but that day the lake's water was so clean, so crisply clear, that I couldn't help but allow myself a brief wash.

When I leant back, allowing my hair to dry, I saw those green orbs again, and smiled, remembering how only four months before they were encased inside an egg...I shoved the images that inevitably paraded in, with much fanfare, afraid that the nightmare would spoil the day. The weather was as full as hope as any spring day should be, and it warmed my body to the core.

Eventually, when the horses were nickering to get moving, I lazily clamoured upon my horse, and continued at a more sedentary state than before, nevertheless fairly quickly, around the lake's perimeter towards the village of Pintagel, marked prominently on the map as the only village for the next ten leagues.

It was beginning to become dark as we cantered into the village, but I still managed to find a horse trader. I took off the packs, and I shed a dry tear as they were led away. But I knew that father would approve, as I would be needed soon.

_Will you be staying within the village tonight? _Emereldo sent an image of himself, lounging beside the lake a short distance outside the village, out of sight behind some rocks. I inwardly giggled when he pulled an extravagant pose, and I looked around the village. There were a few pleasant looking inns, with loud but kind sounding people wobbling in and out, but I preferred to join Emereldo. I sauntered out of the village, and climbed over the rocky outcrop and jumped down to him, still lying down in that peculiar pose.

I made a fire, and cooked the last of the rabbit I had caught the day before. Four months before, I would have cringed at the idea of catching a rabbit for myself, but now it was routine; pull an arrow, massacre, drag kill to camp, skin, scream "Brisingr!" at pile of wood, and cook it in a pot with some water – very character building. I chattered casually to Emereldo as the water boiled, and the rabbit within.

When I finished my meal, and prepared to fall asleep, Emereldo suddenly said, _Come and lie by my chest. I'll cover you with my wing. Don't worry, it will be comfortable._

I doused the fire with a flick of water with my hands, and cautiously set myself down where he commanded. It was surprisingly comfortable, and I felt my eyes close involuntarily.

Emereldo was amused. _Don't fall asleep yet, Tamunora. I have much to discuss with you before you and I do so._

I yawned expansively. _Fire away, only not literally._

_Well, for these first four months of my life, I have been travelling with you and your father, and I know nothing else but change. My first question is; what is home like? _

I hesitated, and then I replied, _Home is where your heart is born, and released from to give to the world, but home is also an anchor to keep you from drifting too far away. It's the centre to our society, and I suspect to dragons it's the same._

_I see. And that leads to my next question; I'm scared about meeting Saphira, Tamunora._

I grinned, _I know, crazy dragon. I share a mental link with you. Drives me almost crazy too, on top of angst about Eragon._

_Ha ha. My question is, when I meet her, how am I expected to greet her? She is older than me; by two months, if I am correct, so I can easily offend her. I know I must speak respectably, but I don't know how this can be achieved. Please help me, Tamunora! If your father was right, we will have to co-operate to salvage the dragon race._

I pursed my lips, feeling the pain of his predicament, almost cursing my father for not allowing Emereldo time amongst people to learn common etiquette, a skill almost impossible when travelling. His mind was interesting and practical, but unsubtle and crude at times because of it. _I think you should trust your instincts as a dragon, for there is common etiquette you can use, but possibly not suitable for a dragon of her reputation. I'm sure that it will all sort itself out when you meet her._

A skipping of relief shuddered into my mind. _Thank you, Tamunora. And my last question, only this is more rhetoric; what do you think we should do when we arrive at the Beor Mountains? Search all the mountains until we find this mysterious Varden?_

_You are right. _I shifted slightly. _But I honestly believe that if we hurry in the next few days, we could catch up with Eragon and Saphira and help them against the Urgals, assuming that they are also going to the Varden, and know where it is. It is a great risk to take, but the only option we have._

He considered this, and then felt a flicker of satisfaction. _Fighting the kin of the creatures who have taken your father, meeting Saphira and finding the Varden more easily? Sounds like an excellent plan._

Uneasy, I admonished him. _Urgals are creatures with an opinion and a spirit, body and mind to live with. I am not keen to kill such creatures that have such gifts, and I wouldn't like to even if they didn't._

_Sometimes killing is necessary, especially when it comes to rabbits._

_Do you really think I enjoy that? What do think this mental link is meant to be for; idleness? It's an ancient pact of understanding!_

_Yes, yes...too many questions at once, hatchling! Let's go to sleep!_

_Crazy dragon. _But I thankfully flopped to sleep against his side, darkness welcome to be embraced, as my dreams came to take me somewhere else, where obligation had been left to crash and burn behind me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Trickling Air**

_Tamunora! Wake up! I can see something in the distance!_

I rubbed my eyes blearily, gritty sand that had taken my face to be a many roomed inn had refused to leave for the past two days of travelling through the Hadarac Desert, and wriggled out from behind Emereldo's wings, stretching gently. Following his eye line, I looked up, and felt myself involuntarily gasp, the air knocked out of me by the pure strength and size of what confronted me. Gigantic mountains erupted out of the ground in the distance, a dragon-back ride from here, possibly, but even this far back they were monstrous, making me almost stagger backwards onto my bottom.

_They're enormous! _I breathed, still transfixed. To my surprise, I felt a flicker of annoyance from Emereldo.

_No, cloth eyes, look below them. _I frowned, and squinted. I couldn't see anything at first, but then I saw an unmistakable movement coming towards us, high above, although not as high as the mountains. To the casual onlooker, it would be a bird hunting prey, but Emereldo and I knew that this creature was definitely no bird; in fact, she was too bright and beautiful to be anything so mortal.

_It is she. _He whispered, transfixed, and I was also a living statue to him, only I was admiring the art, not I being the art and being admired. She glittered a clear sparkling blue that ruled the sky, despite the imperious colour of the sky that could impress anyone. Even from such a distance, she quite clearly was the most beautiful creature in Alagaësia.

Without any words to agree, I threw my pack upon Emereldo's back, and jumped on after it. In case you wish to know, I don't straddle him when I ride him, as dresses make it impossible, and I didn't have a saddle, so instead I would sit on top of my pack, legs all on one side of his body, my magic holding me on when the air current proved tricky.

For the entirety of that day, Emereldo strained his wings tirelessly in fierce pursuit of her, and I gripped on tightly, tightly onto the hope of seeing...well, seeing him, of course. Over the previous four months, he had flitted in and out of my mind like a mysterious little ghost no one could account for. Emereldo couldn't tease me for these daydreams, as I knew he had similar ones about Saphira; however, in context, they were different. His were of fighting battles, of glory and celebration in the pride they shared, whilst mine were less enthused, rather compromising of working side by side to bring down the tyrannical King, and restore peace and openness in Alagaësia. However, they were still similar, as we both hoped to gain the affection of them in such a way I had never considered before. It filled me with an unimaginable joy as the wind crashed like waves of rain upon the ground in a storm, whipping up everything to a tantamount, that I was becoming ever closer to him, or so I hoped.

It was evening by the time we caught up with Eragon and Saphira, so we positioned ourselves a short distance from them, and observed quietly, waiting for a suitable time for us to introduce ourselves. After some heated discussion, we agreed that I would scout towards the camp, and introduce myself when there was a suitable time to do so, and then introduce Emereldo after myself, thus proving that I was a dragon rider and on his side.

So, footsteps stealthy and much tree hiding led to me sitting merely feet from him. He looked older than he did in the posters, with a beard forming upon his chin, with thick dark hair, keen eyes and brows and a long nose. His clothes were suitably worn from travelling, and muscles rippled in his arms as he tipped water into a pot to boil upon a campfire in front of him.

His appearance startled me, for I expected him to be more wonderfully extraordinary than that, show some sign that he was different to others, yet this _man _before me was a different person altogether, with an aura of a bruised and wounded past that could never be cured, no sense of power over how his life had turned out...I didn't really want to believe that it was Eragon.

Yet I had to find out, so I reached within myself to pluck ample crops of courage in the fields I had tended for this moment, but before I could, I saw his back stiffen, and he looked around directly at me. My own back tightened, making me topple backwards, and unable to run. However, he didn't instantly pull out his sword; rather, his face displayed curiosity. He got up, hand on his sword at his belt, and walked towards me slowly. I didn't move, as any sudden movements would give him cause to attack. He knelt down next to me, and surveyed my eyes, face, hair and body, as if trying to work out just what I was.

It became clear that I was to be trusted, as he released his hand from his sword, and nodded at mine, saying, "I have never seen a sword on a woman before. Daggers and bows, yes, but never swords. Tell me, who gave it to you?"

I felt my tongue stick resolutely to the roof of my mouth, like a bat that refused to leave its roost, but I forced it to let me reply, "My father. He taught me to fight, but he's been taken by Urgals. I have been following them." Not entirely untrue; a column of Urgals were coming towards the mountains, as the pilgrim said.

He raised his thick eyebrows slightly, but nodded, as if it had never occurred to him before that women could fight alongside men. He glanced sideways down the mountain, where I could just see the blue dragon I assumed was Saphira, who had a brown haired man around my age in rough clothing standing beside her, leaning over onto what appeared to be a woman lying upon Saphira.

I opened my mouth, intending to ask what was happening, but he placed a hand over my mouth gently, "Over there, that is Eragon. My name is Murtagh, and I have been watching you all day, flying on your dragon. I would recommend that you keep away from Eragon at first, as Urgals working for the army and our destination means that we shall have to separate. You haven't seen who is on Saphira, and hopefully you won't look now and blab to someone else. Finally, I suggest that you go to the Elves, and find sanctuary up there, as it's sensible to not put two hopeful eggs in one basket, almost literally. Understood?" I nodded, resisting the urge to bite his hand.

He seemed to sense this and released me. I itched my nose, bid him a stiff farewell, and hurried back to Emereldo, who was looking glum, as he had observed what was happening through our mental link.

_What a dilemma. _He commented, flicking his tail a little, eyes keenly watching Saphira.

_Indeed. _My own eyes were keenly watching her rider, unable to discern his features from such a distance.

After some time of bending over the woman, Eragon staggered backwards suddenly onto his knees, Murtagh dashing over to him, helping him up, and dragging him in an almost brotherly way to the campfire to have something to eat, or so I assumed. Instead, they began shouting at each other, and began ripping at each other, like dogs over some meat. I could hear their words fairly clearly.

"Of course. Murtagh the pack animal. Murtagh the horse leader. I should have remembered that's all I good for nowadays. Yes I suppose I'll just follow your instructions and bring up the horses in the rear like a good servant."

I felt my jaw snap out of place as I listened to this. Was Eragon really as bad as that unspeakable boy four months before?

He sounded convincingly bewildered, "What's wrong with you? I'm grateful for what you did. There's no reason to be angry with me! You chose to come with me after rescuing my defenceless self; I never ordered you to do so."

I felt a flicker of uncertainty as the dispute deepened, with Murtagh seemingly poking Eragon, "The problem with you is that you're so totally helpless you force everyone to take care of you!"

I blinked; when a person is as rare as a Dragon Rider, and as disliked when not on Galbatorix's side, they need as much protection as possible so they can use their power to drag us out of underneath that bizarre King. "Don't touch me!" I heard Eragon yell at his companion, and some insults were traded and physical contact was silent but none the less painful looking, as they scrambled together, civilised men they certainly weren't. Disgusted, I told Emereldo to go hunting, and that I didn't care if he greeted Saphira alone, and I sat with the fight behind my back.

I only looked round when there was a lid thump, and I realised that Saphira had the two men held within her powerful grasp, and Emereldo was clearly watching in dreamy amazement.

_Go on now, hurry up. We will need to be able to keep up with them tomorrow. _I scolded him with a smile, and he reluctantly glided off into the distant mountains, Saphira too distracted to notice, as the sunset glowed over this intriguing scene.


	9. Chapter 9

**On the Other Side of the Valley**

Looking back, I wonder what made me follow the two men and Saphira to where I hoped was the Varden, because the poor impression I had received was equivalent to waving to someone and having an arrow in the arm in reply, and the next morning made me furious about the idea of secretly pursuing them, for what I truly wanted to do, or so my pride told me, was to run up to them and shove them with force off their horses, and laugh as they rolled off the mountain, especially Murtagh. After some thought, however, I remembered that he was the son of Morzan, who killed my grandmother all those years ago, as well as many other people, and I figured that he had joined Eragon to try and disassociate himself from his father. So I decided, after a little while, to forgive them.

Such brushing away of the matter was performed because it became very apparent that there was the column of Urgals a mere ten leagues behind us, which worried me. I didn't mind so much for myself, as it wasn't me they were after (even at this point, no one knew that I existed nor Emereldo had hatched), but I was worried that Eragon, Saphira and Murtagh would be massacred before reaching the safe haven of the Varden. Wherever that was.

So we spent the next three days amusing ourselves by annoying the Urgals. It was instantly obvious that they didn't know what colour Saphira was (slightly obvious though – Sapphires are blue, and they use a similar word in their language for them), so the first day we dived behind a mountain, and appeared in another valley to where Saphira and the men had gone, so they dashed over to us, swords glinting in their hundreds, and we led them a long way down it, until they realised, as they became very close, that there was a woman on the dragon. I laughed at them when they saw this, and shot a magic arrow into the army, who shot a hundred more back but they all missed as Emereldo took a steep climb into the air, making him gasp for air but laugh even harder than me.

The next two days weren't as lively, but were suitably entertaining. We felled trees across their paths, forcing them to go around, sent rabid _Shrrgs _after them (mountain wolfs – very ferocious but have an excellent sense of humour) and at one point made the land they walked on flood and collapse, making many of them sink. They never died from these little sideshows I wondered if the men and Saphira ever noticed (and Emereldo, who feverently hoped), but they did have to slow down because of treacherous injuries. These always made me feel sick from guilt, as my father had always preached to me that Urgals were just the same as us, fuelled by the same desires to live and prosper as we all do, and only fought because they considered it the only way for their tribes to survive. I combated these feelings by reminding myself that Eragon had to reach the Varden if these lands wanted to be restored to peace and prosperity once more. In other words, I suppose, for the greater good, as it was for me to bring up the rear, even though I didn't want to, and Murtagh was right' double the trouble from the Empire if two opposing Riders are in the same place.

On the fourth day, I sensed that we were nearing the destination. They were picking up in speed, driving the horses into an ever wilder pace, which I could see was reducing them to staggering, struggling fires in the ensuing rain and wind that carried the sharp unforgettable edge of a thousand swords and arrows that would surely hammer them without my help. So all throughout that day and night we worked what I swear to have been beyond our limits to keep the Urgals back, even directly attacking a few of them with magic in an effort to delay them just a few minutes longer. I nearly fell asleep many times, and only my natural magical power, the structure of my bones, the armour under my skin, and Emereldo's jolting flight patterns as he dodged the occasional arrows, kept me galvanised.

It was when we suddenly arrived in a huge valley, flanked by particularly enormous peaks that had its feet dipped into a lake hundreds of metres deep, and no obvious way of leaving apart from the entrance, that I realised that we had arrived. I whooped, maybe a little loudly, but Murtagh, Eragon and Saphira appeared to not notice, and Emereldo gave a little crow under his breath, his grin spreading from horn to horn. Even the sky smiled, as the clouds were spread aside, from east to west, a jagged crack splitting it tidily.

The battle cry of the Urgals brought me to my senses, and to my horror, they were at the mouth of the valley, and quickly catching up on the men and dragon. With only a dented pride to fuel us – We had failed to keep the Urgals away! – we, without any true thought for our safety, screamed across the valley, and clashed with the Urgals in an explosion of water and blood. They say that blood is thicker than water, and they're sadly correct. Emereldo snatched at any foolish enough to come near his jaws, and tossed them into the lake, who couldn't swim because of their heavy armour, and I blasted any I could see desperately with magic, and hacked away with my sword, my arms engulfed in flames that could be fed by fury or tiredness.

Eventually, however, the magic holding me of the saddle weakened, and I fell off, making me tumble into the water from a great height, but I managed to find the sense to cushion my landing as I hit the surface. The water was icy, and my torn dress billowed uncomfortably all around me, and I distinctly saw dead Urgals sink around me as Emereldo continued chucking them in, reminding me eerily of the wood back at home, of how the gaps between the trees looked like bars against the sunshine, bars to our freedom, our release.

As the bodies piled around me, I eventually came to my senses, and with a sweep of my aching arms, I pulled myself to the surface, which I burst through with a mighty crash, and, coughing, I swam to the edge, where Emereldo was throwing the last of the Urgals into the lake, and on the other side of the valley, by a beautiful and majestic waterfall, thumping a battle beat, I saw Eragon and Murtagh fending off the rest of the Urgals with a swish, click and screech of metal, but I could tell even from this distance they would be overpowered, even with Saphira's brutal and powerful help. I could feel Emereldo's drowning anguish, and I shivered, not just because of my damp clothes, as I knew that unless I acted, they would, to use common phrase, which suited the situation, be stuffed.

So I did the only thing I could do; I yelled, with all the strength I could muster, my mind firmly set on their salvation, then ours, calling for the Varden to appear, and save Eragon, Murtagh and Saphira, regardless that Urgals were crashing upon their front door, and I randomly sent jets of magic flows, which hit some Urgals, sending them tumbling to the ground, but right then, I didn't care.

I'm still not sure how long I kept it up, but I do remember the side of the mountain opening as the sun went in, the clouds deepened in colour, and the world suddenly became sullen and angry.

I raised my arms, trying to call upon my magic, which suddenly seemed to come much easier, and I could feel something soft underneath me. I grappled at it, my first terrified thought was that the Urgals had captured me and I was now in their camp, and they would want vengeance for me killing some of their soldiers, but I realised that the cloth I was lying on was definitely made my humans, as it was my own. Puzzled, I frowned, and opened my eyes slowly.

A bare room greeted me as I looked around at it, with shabby but clean white paint on the walls, strong wooden beams supporting a crumbling cave roof, and a pallid stone floor. There was no window, so the room was softly lit by orb like lanterns, which were predominantly blue, but the one beside me was green. Emereldo was nowhere to be seen.

Furious, I struggled out of the blanket tightly wrapped around me, and snatched up the sword still on my belt, willing to attack anyone who came near unless they told me where he was.

"Good morning. I suggest you hide your sword, woman, as they have a no weapon policy here, unless you've proved that you're either foolish or saintly. And your dragon has been taken into the Varden, because they don't want Eragon and Saphira to know who you are." I rubbed my eyes, unbelieving, although it was logical. Murtagh was lolling casually against the wall, looking like a stylish drunkard, his hair tousled, armour still bloody, eyes bright in the dim light.

"Thank...thank you Murtagh." I replied uncertainly, "But why do they not want my identity known? And why are we here? Wait," I raised an eyebrow, "Let me answer that; that's because we brought Urgals to their front door, correct?"

He sniggered, "Almost right; they think it's you because you were behind the Urgals the whole time, and it would appear that you were directing them in the right direction, or so the wards in the valley believe. That's why your dragon has been taken away, and you're in here with the two of us, so we could overpower you. However, they couldn't get the sword off of you, and a dwarf who was in here tried to search your mind, but he has received a most spectacular migraine, so they believe that not only are you working for Galbatorix, but you're also a dangerous magician as well as Rider. The reason why they don't want your identity known to Eragon and Saphira is because –"

"...they think I will drag them over to the dark side?" I snarled, indignant at the injustice, "By the Gods, I think you'd be more likely as the son of Morzan, yet look! You haven't killed him yet, haven't you, and judging by what I have seen in the past four days, despite the undignified fight between the two of you, you're as close as brothers, and brothers in arms don't rise against each other when driving towards a common goal; to arrive at the Varden. Or is there another reason that you came here?"

Murtagh opened his mouth, and closed it again. With an inward, calming breath, he replied, with a more polite voice than before, "I have underestimated you. You obviously are intelligent for your age, understand the situation better than those who have locked us up here, and have the sense to hold onto your freedom. So answer this question; why did you follow us?"

I smiled at him, "I can't answer that question unless mine is beforehand."

He folded his arms, returning the smile, "Then we have a problem."

I put down the sword, "Not now. You could now take the sword and deal with the problem right now, for I am waiting for the answer you will not give."

Surprise flashed across his face, "Wow." He said simply, but he made no move. With an exasperated sigh, I picked up my sword and slotted it back onto my belt. As I was about to return to my blankets, however, he suddenly said, "Do you know who I am?"

I met his eyes, "Yes. You're the son of Morzan." I replied simply.

He seemed to wait, and so did I, increasing his supplies, "So why don't you attack me?"

I shrugged, "Your father killed my grandmother, but she could have died from other hands rather than his, and that isn't a responsibility I can expect you to bear. It would be a poor introduction of myself, I think, to kill you when we are still strangers for something you and I weren't old enough to remember."

This seemed to please, but unsettled also, him acutely, and he asked me, "What's your name, my lady?"

I gave a wry curtsey, "Tamunora, my lord."

"Tamunora..." The name seemed to register, but before he could comment, I heard somewhere to my right a dragon snuffling and growling, which, thanks to travelling with Emereldo, I knew meant that Saphira was dreaming, and someone had turned over in their sleep.

I crept over to them. I registered her glorious scales and proud claws and fangs thicker than two of my fists, but her wings fiercely shielded a man I had longed to see, but I was terrified of approaching, in case either of them should awake and not be pleased to see me. I breathed slowly and deeply, and took courage to peek through a gap between the wings.

At first, I could barely see his face, obscured by shadows, but when Saphira's wings shifted in her sleep, light slipped in, carrying his face to me, and I felt my feet freeze to the ground I stood, the light previously made so warm by the lanterns was now cold and painful, and I shivered deeply. It wasn't a beautiful face, but it was a face that made me uncomfortable and shy, as if I wasn't meant to be there. It was so real, so full of intelligence, strength and humility, that I felt tears come. Just looking at him gave my heart a throb of strength, and I instantly knew that this man was not that boy, nor was he just a face on a poster. He was the staunch purity that I realised that my heart thought it would never find.

"I resent having to interrupt you, Tamunora, but I think he may wake up soon, so I think you should follow my advice, and hide. Now is not the time for you to meet." I bit my lip hard, tears coming fast and furious, but I knew Murtagh was right. I stumbled back to my blankets, and I stared hard at the lantern, trying to suppress the feelings plumbing that flickered through me in the same way the light danced around the previously bare room, now so much more alive with my emotions running amok in such a way I never known before.


	10. Chapter 10

**Mountains with a Mountain**

I heard his voice, a quiet, melodious echo of a song that reverberated in my memory, warming me to the core, and I wanted to call back to it, to tell him that I was here, that I had never needed to meet someone so much in my life, not so much for myself but for the empire. Yet I saw Murtagh look over to where I was, and his expression reminded me of what I had to do. Eragon would simply not believe me if I told him, and it was pointless to try. Tears flooded over again as the implications of this situation beat me, threw me into a box, which was slammed shut, locked and lobbed over a cliff that never seemed to end.

They were led out of the room, in a line; out into a corridor lit by more of those curious lanterns, and the door thumped quietly shut behind them, leaving me into a grieving silence, a huge expanse of loneliness that in my entire life I had never known. So I, once more, wriggled out of my blankets, and, desperate to occupy myself in this infinite position, I wrapped them up in a meticulous order, trying to use the task to distract myself from the sadness tipping out of my mind, like an overflowing goblet, leaking out through my eyes. I did little to stop it, as there was no one to see it, no one to offer me titbits of common sense that I couldn't find within myself anymore.

I must have stayed there for hours, hours of boredom and anger that I vented with taking my sword and pretended to stab Murtagh many times and various made up Varden officials who all stood in my way, before anything of interest arrived. Some bread and cheese with some ale was shoved through a gap in the door that was quickly covered over. I put down my sword, vowing to come back to finish them all off the hundredth time, and, ravenous, sat down in front of the plate. However, mindful of how the Varden saw me, I used a spell to check it for any drugs. The ale was untouched, but the food had a sleeping drug. Deciding that it was better to be awake, I discarded the food and drank the ale, enjoying the feeling it had on my parched throat.

When I finished, I carefully wiped my face, and resumed my venomous attack on imaginary people, only I was slightly better disposed towards the Varden as they gave me an unspoiled drink, even if not food, so instead I attacked others; that nameless boy, the pilgrim, Urgals...Eventually, I grew tired of this, and I was feeling quite hungry. To distract myself from the food, I placed pieces of cheese, bread and the plate around the room, and practised my shooting practise with blasts of magic. I hadn't realised how far I was determined to go to be entertained until that confinement. But, after what must have been eleven or twelve hours, I had run out things to do and I was tired, hungry but less angry and upset than I had been that morning.

It was when I remembered, blearily, that the door had a hatch that I could blast off. In fact, why not blast off the door because of this weakness? Enthused, and uncaring of having to face potential guards, I, stood in front of the door, pack in one hand, sword in other, searched with my mind for any weaknesses in the door, where there were plenty because of the damp. I mapped them in my mind, and muttered, "Jierda!"

With a horrifyingly loud crash, the door crumbled into dust, and I ran through the ensuing cloud, expecting to be attacked, but I wasn't. When I realised this, I actually laughed.

_Tamunora? Are you crazy?! Get yourself up here, before any blood has to be spilt._

My heart leapt happily when I heard Emereldo's voice for the first time in hours, _Heard and understood Emereldo. I will be right up!_

I ran as fast as I dared along the corridor, instinct that was imbedded in my heart guiding me, to something I didn't yet understand, but I knew so well, even though it had been within me for only a short while. My breath became ragged and quick, but I ignored it, willing myself to keep going, to get there before it was too late...

A soft glow soon appeared in front of me, which spurred me on, determined to reach the light, leaving the crawling darkness far behind me. I burst into a plethora of gushing light, gem studded columns and precious metal inlaid stone on the floor, polished so I slipped, and collided hard against two high double doors, making me flop to the ground, gasping for air. No one was around, so I breathed freely. As soon as I had recovered, I called for him,

_Emereldo! A little help, if you can give it! There's a blasted door – well, not literally – that is in my way, and I suspect it's locked, as I have fallen against it, and it didn't shift at all._

He gave me wry reply, faint because of the distance. _I can't come to you, as I am at least two miles from you, and anyway I'm in a secure room. So you will have to try and pull the door instead of push it._

Sceptical, I pulled the door by a stiff looking handle that I assumed was broken, but it opened easily.

_See? _Came his smug voice. _If we can follow that logic, I want you now to try and fly, as even I managed to open that door, admittedly with my mind._

I laughed inwardly, and checked for guards, which, to my surprise, were asleep. _How lazy can the Varden get? There were Urgals outside mere hours ago! _

_Remember, Tamunora, we killed a lot of them._

_Oh, aye, I'm sure that they could make Urgal soup in the lake outside if they wish for an open air banquet. It would be your pleasure._

_Ha. _

I slipped through the door, and I couldn't hold in a gasp. The inside of the mountain was cut like an enormous bowl, with the far side miles away from where I stood, a vague blue haze in the distance, like a forgotten memory. Huge delicate icicles hung from the ceiling, that were at least hundreds, if not thousands, of feet in diameter, looking like an enormous but bizarre candelabra. The centre piece of the bowl-table below was a smaller mountain, which was still at least a mile tall, dabbed with a thousand lights winking at me, enticing me in. I obliged, and leapt down the path, sliding all the way down the edge with a loud excited cry when I realised it was steeper than I thought.

When I eventually reached the mountain, I was greeted by another set of doors, this time easier to open, but still no guards. I shifted it open cautiously, and I saw two dwarf soldiers sitting at a table, heads lolled in sleep. I tiptoed past them after I carefully closed the door, and looked up.

I felt my jaw drop, and then I hastily brought it up again, so I wouldn't utter an exclamation. Pavestones lead me to various streets crisscrossing into the distance, stone buildings carved with skill rising high up above me in tidy alliance with the rock above it, which, astonishingly, meant that the city had been completely carved out from within the mountain. I had no doubt that I had not only found the Varden, but I had met the elusive dwarves, who were famous for their skills with metal and stone.

_Quite finished with the sightseeing? They know you're here, by the way; they just don't usually need guards everywhere, as Galbatorix doesn't know they're here...yet. Have no fear, though; they don't want to kill you, they will just interrogate you._

I frowned. _But what if they think I'm lying? They probably will._

_Well, they broke into my mind actually, so they might do the same..._

I swore. _Are you all right?_

_Yes of course. Remember, I'm a dragon, cloth head. It will take a million men to break me._

_Yes, but if you are unprepared..._

_Doom monger. I suggest that you try and find them before they find you; makes things less messy, you see._

_Agreed. _I cut off the link temporarily, and I snooped through the deserted streets, eyes alive for anything that could pose a threat...

I jumped when someone collided into me, and I fell backwards, the person falling on top of me. I apologised hurriedly, and awkwardly, but gently, pushed the person away, but the person kept their hold on me. Quickly, I saw the person was Murtagh, and I felt annoyed at his breach of personal space. I sat up, and he still held onto my shoulders, running down my upper arms, brown eyes keenly looking into my own.

"Lost?" He asked, amused, seemingly unsurprised that I wasn't in the bare room anymore, and added "Would you like directions to Ajihad? He's the leader of the Varden, by the way."

"I figured that." I replied, surprised by how I began to not mind his touch so much when I knew that he wanted to help. I was still suspicious, however, "Why are you touching me, Murtagh? I have only known you – what – four days?"

He hesitated, and then murmured, "I think that hardly matters. Anyway, how did you escape from that cell?"

I rolled my eyes and smiled, "Here we go again. I ask a question, and you avoid it to ask your own. You still didn't answer the question I gave you that time, you know."

He smiled uncertainly back, "Nor did you." There was an uncomfortable silence, where he was still stroking me in that strange manner, then I piped up, "So, Morzan's son, what are you doing roaming the streets of this...city?" I didn't know the name of the place.

"Tronjheim." He looked annoyed at my teasing, "Don't remind me of him." He growled.

"Sorry Murtagh. It's an assertion. I thought the Varden are as jumped up about you as they are about me?"

"Yes. That's why I...I..." He stuttered, and fell silent.

"That's why...you want me to help you get accepted?" I guessed.

"Yes!" He looked suspiciously relieved, and I felt curious, but I left it, as I knew now that Murtagh never answered questions on himself, "Yes, that's what I meant. But I have no idea how I – sorry, we – could do that." He nodded.

I raised my eyebrow, sensing something else, but I didn't pursue the subject, "Take us to Ajihad then." I told him.

He stepped off me, and began to walk, and I hurried to his side, "Yes my lady." He joked.

There was uproar when we arrived into a circular room, with a blood red rose dripping dappled early morning light below. It would appear that our appearance had attracted interest, yet no one stopped us when Murtagh led me, taking my hand, through the crowds down a corridor to a highly polished cedar door, where two guards eyed us cautiously, and waved us in.

A man with skin as deep a colour as polished ebony sat at the desk facing the door. His head was bare of hair, apart from a well kept black beard on his chin and jaw line. His body was strong and commanded great power and charisma, exuding respect for everyone to give and take to and from him. Such was the impression I received, I dropped to my knees in front of his desk. There was not even a flicker of surprise when we had burst in, but when I knelt, there was now. He got up, and lifted me up, "Tamunora, you are a Rider. You do not need to kneel to any leader, even the twisted King himself."

I felt my lips twitch; just hearing that reminded me of home, where the King's name was often damned to horse fodder. This reminded me of father, which sobered me in a way not unlike how I hit the door just an hour before. Ajihad saw this, and his expression was soft.

"I trust that you have a prolific tale already, ready to match Eragon's, who was in here last night. Yet I cannot hear it now, as I can see that you have other matters to discuss with me, for you have brought Murtagh with you." He observed Murtagh, and he asked him, "How did you evade the guards?"

Murtagh shrugged, "Practise."

I looked Ajihad into the eyes, "My lord, is it true that the Varden believes that I am working for the Empire because I was behind the Urgal column? Because I would like to argue that if I was, I would have captured Eragon instead of slowing down the column, and also I had tried to stop them reaching them outside by the lake." My stomach suddenly gave a growl; I was still hungry. "I had collapsed from expending too much energy." I explained sheepishly, "And I haven't eaten since yesterday midday.

"And also, I would like you to allow tolerance for Murtagh, as despite the fact I followed them for four days, he didn't point out my presence to Eragon, which is what the Varden wants, is it not, nor did he attempt to kill me. Also, he has taken care of Eragon, riding to a place where he knew he would not be welcomed for his salvation. So, could you not strike a compromise for the both of us?"

Ajihad's eyes twinkled with merriment, "I think Riders have a certain mindset, of where they value their power so much, they are unwilling to relax it. You sounded almost like Eragon. Normally, I would refuse you, but since you are a Rider, and your dragon has injured the Twins, and could injure more, such is his indignation, I am forced to concur. Guards!" The men standing outside the door walked in, and stood to attention, "Take Murtagh to one of our guest rooms, and make sure he is comfortable, but also make sure he doesn't escape." I wasn't sure if this was good enough, but Murtagh shrugged at me and allowed himself to be doggedly led out of the room, the doors shut quietly behind them. _At least it is better than what the alternative would have been. _I thought desperately.

Ajihad took my attention back, "You're probably glad to hear that I can allow more freedom than Murtagh." His eyes still held that same glint. "No one knows what this new rider is called or her dragon, nor do they know what she or he looks like. Therefore, I propose that your dragon would be taken up to the old dragon hold caves above Tronjheim, where he will sleep during the day, and awake at night, so he can avoid Saphira but still be able to leave the city for hunting at night. You shall have to follow the same pattern, only to avoid Eragon and Murtagh. Murtagh obviously already knows who you are, but Eragon hasn't seen you yet. Am I correct?"

I nodded stiffly, eyes heavy and damp, like a forest after a torrential rain had fallen. No more tears on that subject, I decided.

"Then are you in agreement?" I nodded again, and then I asked,

"My lord, what if there is a battle and our assistance will be required?"

He gave me an approving look, "I wish you to join Du Vrangr Gata, which is our magician group, and headed by the Twins. You can use your powers to help the Varden, should Urgals find a way into Farthen Dûr – that is the name of this central mountain – and we would need extra magical assistance should it be required. Your dragon will be deployed also, but kept away from Saphira. You may have to ride him to bring magic further into enemy lines, so I hope you are reasonably courageous."

"My lord, I would do anything for the King to fall. Just tell me what is necessary."

He smiled, "Then I order you to go up to the dragon hold – just take the tunnel lit by red lanterns, and look for a white door. Knock upon it, and you will find your dragon, and you will be led out of the city so you can fly up there. And now I bid you good day." I curtseyed, unsettled, and walked out the room.


	11. Chapter 11

**Let It Rain**

As dusk crept into the dragon hold, where Emereldo and I had slipped between wakefulness and muffled sleep, like the flutter of curtains in the wind, I eagerly awoke, keen to explore Tronjheim, and perhaps see Eragon again, although from a distance. Emereldo, I could tell, was hatching a plan on how to meet Saphira.

_They didn't tell me to stay away, did they not? I will refrain from greeting Eragon, but I shall introduce myself to Saphira._

I smiled a fraction, surprised at my stirrings of jealousy. _You do that. Show me the reaction when you do so, will you? I suspect it will be at least reasonably entertaining._

_For the sake of the future of the dragons in Alagaësia, I hope not. _

_Oh? You are actually serious?_

_Yes._

I scuffed the ground with my boot. _I see. I'm sorry for my jest. It was ill thought out, and unnecessary._

He laughed, a deep throbbing that made the ground vibrate pleasantly. _Only humour will keep us strong, Tamunora. Do remember that._

_I will. _I smoothed down my clothes, and suddenly I noticed a dress laid out on a table beside the entrance. Curious, I picked it up, and I felt my eyes widen slowly. It was just long enough for my height, and it was a deep green, as lustrous a colour as the leaves of summer trees, of summer fields, dancing and staggering wildly into the distance...I found a note upon it, which drifted to the floor, and I snatched it up. It was inscribed, "If you wish for a wash, follow the cat outside the hold. Come to my room with him, and **stay out of Eragon's sight!** Angela."

_Angela? _I looked quizzically at Emereldo. _Do you know who she is?_

_No idea. But the cat outside appears to be impatient._

I snapped my head round, and saw a pure white cat, striking a lightning bolt of interest against the dark rock and even the Isidar Mithrim, a formidable background. It twitched its tail. _Come_, rang a calm voice in my head, and it began stalking off towards some stairs on one end of the hold. Instinctively, I ran after it, as did Emereldo, still holding onto that dress. It scampered down the stairs, rushed us along various corridors, always going down, almost colliding with patrolling guards (why weren't they at the entrance?) patrolling the tunnel we once had to take, and eventually coming to a stop at a dark underground cave with an indent flooded with steaming water. A bar of soap resided at the side of the pool, as did a soft towel.

"Thank you, cat." I whispered, and its eyes looked so intelligent I found myself giving him a curtsey. He sauntered out to the mouth of the cave, and Emereldo approached the water, inspecting to see how deep it was, then, deciding that it was safe, leapt it, grunting at the heat. I giggled at him, and stripped off my dress and the makeshift armour my brother used when he was younger when aspiring to be a soldier, and had saved me just the day before, but was now in poor shape. I felt my skin breathe for the first time in weeks, and, exhilarated, I jumped in after Emereldo, yelling at the heat.

When I became used to the heat, I found an old brush left at the edge, and took to brushing the grime off him, revealing, like snow being swept away to reveal bright green grass below, his glorious scales. I smiled when I saw them, and proceeded to scrub with vigour. It took me at least an hour, but the end result was worth it as he gleamed in the dim light. Satisfied, I leaned back, and submerged myself in the pool, rubbing with the soap to take off the grime on myself, invigorating my body to lift my spirit and mind.

There was a distant splash, and I jumped up, automatically covering my breasts, suddenly fearful. There were some more splashes, and suddenly someone burst up from under the surface of the pool, laughing uproariously.

"Murtagh! You'll never guess what I've done! I -!" It was _he. _Emereldo had shown the sense to submerge himself at this point, leaving me to deal with Eragon alone, when both naked. He seemed to flush suitably when he saw who it really was, but he seemed so embarrassed he was unable to move, so I broke the awkward silence.

"You're Eragon, aren't you? I have seen you around, you know, with your dragon Saphira, and I've met Murtagh. I only came here yesterday, like you."

He seemed to relax when he realised that I wasn't going to kill him, and began moving away from me, and seemed to be preparing himself to leave. Desperate for him to stay, despite our position, I blurted out, "I can use magic as well."

He looked round at me, surprised, "Can you?" Then he looked sheepish, "You've figured out how I did it, didn't you?"

"Did what?" Then my mind sounded a mental click, "Oh, swimming from another bath, right?"

He grinned shyly, his eyes so keenly looking away from my body to my face they were making my face become heavy with the amount of blood thumping to it, "Aye. I thought Murtagh was in here, but obviously they haven't allowed him to leave wherever he is." His smile held, but his eyes held a sad expression.

I felt embarrassed, wondering if I should expend such information about Murtagh's whereabouts when it risked revealing my identity, but his face convinced me of the correct answer, "Murtagh is in one of the guest rooms. I'm not sure where he is exactly, but I do know he's safe." I hesitated, and then I added, "I appealed to Ajihad to place him there."

His eyebrows flew upwards, "Really? But how -?" He scrutinised me, then sighed, "Don't tell me. I have seen your type before."

I giggled, "Nice to be recognised." I shifted my arms, so my left arm covered my chest, and my right was free. I held it out, and he cautiously brought out his to mine to shake it. "My name is Tamunora."

"Tamunora..." He held the name on his tongue for a few moments, and then looked at me curiously, the intelligence of his expression unsettling me, and I looked away, ashamed.

"Well," He cleared his throat, letting go of my hand gently, "I hope we meet again, only with more modesty."

I nodded, recognising the wish to leave, "I will make sure of it, Eragon." I replied with a wink. He bowed to me, and I curtseyed as well as I could, and he dived down into the depths, presumably to go and tell Saphira of his adventure. As soon as he was gone, Emereldo appeared with a muffled splosh, and was laughing raucously.

_If that doesn't go down in legends, I swear...now this incenses me to find Saphira. We shall win this battle!_

_Make sure that she won't tell Eragon though; it would still be unwise, I believe, especially since neither of us was really...mature enough. _I blushed violently, scared that he now thought me a loose woman for not covering myself up more.

_Calm down, Tamunora. You were handling it perfectly well. At least you have managed to acquaintance yourself without revealing any dangerous secrets. _He snorted. _When I meet Saphira, my presence will warrant it._

I touched his snout softly. _I'm sure that she will be so pleased to see you, she won't care too much. Now let's join the cat to meet this mysterious Angela._

I climbed out of the pool, and quickly dried myself over, slicking my thick, but clean hair dry with warm air magicked from my hands, and pulled on the now warm dress, enjoying the feel against my skin. When I was decent, the cat led us up the stairs again, this time into a new corridor, lined with various tapestries. Feeling nervous, I followed.

Half an hour later, I found myself facing an eccentric looking witch with dark eyes and a brilliantly coloured dress, waiting for our future to be told. I wasn't sure why I had agreed, but as soon as the cat looked in her eyes, Angela had jumped up and shook my hand. She didn't seem angry when I had admitted that I had communicated with Eragon; rather, she seemed to understand, and she pointed to the cat, explaining that he had insisted on leading us there, as he had predicted that the incident would happen. I was very confused by this, but she didn't seem to mind very much; indeed, she sat me down in a flourish to have some tea and badgered me to tell our story and hear our fortune.

She brought out a bag of what looked like thick bones with large runes carved upon them, and prepared to cast them. I watched her intently, hands gripping the edge of the seat. She pulled out these bones, and began chanting under her breath. She then threw the bones upwards, crying "Manin! Wryda! Hugin!" and allowed them to tumble onto the table in front of her, and they landed in a slightly jumbled pile.

I looked at the bones, and looked at the areas of tangle, wondering when it would happen. Angela seemed to be reading them with as much ease as one would a book in a different language. Eventually, she sighed, and rubbed her brow hard.

"Your futures are...curious. It would appear that yours will eventually collide with another's, who has a ridiculously complicated one. I will not disclose who it is, but I'm sure you could guess. It says here that you two will have an infinite life – no surprise there – and you will experience much death before you achieve your wishes, some of these people you would not want to kill. However, amongst such doom and gloom, you have a bright future. There is a romance, with a farmer and, of course, his dragon, standing beside you as your equal, leader and servant all together. They are brave, intelligent and ever faithful to you and themselves. Whether the romance shall be usurped by others is yet to be determined, but if you truly love this man, be prepared to fight for them." Her expression, which had briefly been light, turned suddenly overcast. "However, if you are not aware of events around you, a friend will turn against you, in such a way that may change the fate for Alagaësia. Stay vigilant, as it will be swift and unexpected."

_A friend? Turning against us? _I looked up at Emereldo, whose face was solemn. _And a romance! This is sounding interesting..._

_Mmmm._

Angela inspected the last of the runes, and clapped her hands cheerfully. "After you have completed your wishes, you will both leave these lands forever. It is unclear of where you will end up, but it is certainly somewhere far away and there is strong reasons for leaving." She scratched her head, "But the runes are very vague about what these are...Well, I think that will do." She swept up the bones into the bag with a satisfied nod as I slumped, staring down at my hands.

_Leaving this land forever! Sounds fun, but...will we survive? Will we ever see our family ever again? Oh the questions Emereldo! Why did we agree to this?_

_Well, we were forced into it, Tamunora. I suggest that we just press on and hope that we don't die and succeed, just like anyone else making their way in this strange world. If we do die...at least we have tried._

I smiled at Angela, "Thank you very much for reading my fortune, Miss Angela. May I be excused now?"

She chuckled, "What, so soon? Of course you can my dear, but be sure to visit again with Emereldo, as we have much to...discuss." She inclined her head, and I returned the gesture. Emereldo cheekily winked at the cat, who grumped but seemed amused by the gesture, and curled up on the rug.

"Oh, and don't mind Solembum. He's not always so reserved, you know, and his interest in you and Emereldo was the reason why I read your fortunes. Use the knowledge I have given you wisely, and good night." We left the room, and as we made our way back up to the dragon hold, we pondered over what Angela had said.

When I stripped off my dress for bed, I found a thin white one to sleep in on the rough bed I had slept in the previous day alongside a plate of bread, meat and mushrooms, alongside a haunch of meat for Emereldo, and, grateful, I pulled it on, as I had had enough of being naked that night, and quickly ate my food. I yawned expansively as the dawn broke over the hold, keen to go to sleep. However, Emereldo was wide awake, and was watching something keenly as he chewed slowly on his meat. I followed his eye line, and managed to stifle a giggle. Saphira had come out of their hold, leaving Eragon on the floor, unnoticing of her absence. When she looked up at the dawn, it trickled down her face and all over her body, and I thought it was like looking upon the true Queen of this world itself, such was the way she shone in the light. Emereldo seemed to agree as well, as he slipped out of the hold.

My fatigue made me unbothered about stopping him, and I dreamily listening to her exclamations, his quiet explanations, her joy, his joy, then much talking until Eragon began to stir, and I felt my eyes stir into sleep as Emereldo padded back in, a beacon of happiness, burbling about Saphira, and I sleepily congratulating him on his courage, my mind already skipping dreams.

Under the cloak of dawn and dusk, for three more occasions, these two young dragons met, unknown by Eragon, which caused me almost as much grief as I knew it did Saphira, but for safety's sake, it was better that they didn't know.

It wasn't until the fourth morning of being under Farthen Dûr's solid protection that this was sorely tested. A dwarf ran into the hold just as Emereldo and I were about to go to sleep, calling for Eragon and Saphira to awake as there was great danger, encouraging me to get dressed into my dress and armour, which had since been mended. As soon as rider and dragon had disappeared, I called out in halting Dwarvish (thank you father!),

"Am I expected remain here, or come and fight?"

The dwarf jumped, but shook his head, gaining his composture, "Eta, eta...You, Tamunora, will join the spell casters, and your dragon will be dispatched to patrol tunnels and both of you will help to collapse some of them to prevent Urgals coming in.

Urgals! I instantly felt guilty, and I opened my mouth to apologise, but the dwarf hushed me, "It is not of your doings. Now follow me and I will send you in the correct direction."

Once again, we hurried through those corridors without a clue of where we were going. The dwarf led us to below the glittering Isidar Mithrim, delicate droplets of light falling like rain upon us. I felt war reside in the air, and the red rose seemed all the bloodier as the dwarf motioned me to go to Ajihad's study, and Emereldo to the tunnels far down below. I took in a deep breath, mustering strength, and once again gained entry to the study.

**Sorry that this chapter is shorter...I have to finish my homework :-S ah biology, does anyone love thee, lol...again, thank you for the awesome reviews! You're all so encouraging X-D merci bien et tout l'honeur du monde pour tout des vous pour la plus heureux...yes I felt like that**


	12. Chapter 12

**Say You, Say Me**

Ajihad's study has changed. Instead of the man sitting, bemused, behind his desk, he now wore an expression as hard and strong as the rock that surrounded us all just of the other side of those walls, as unyielding and powerful as the forces fast approaching us all. He was fortified by various people in armour; I saw Eragon standing just in front of me, eyes widening at my presence, but sensible enough to not comment. I blushed and looked at the other people.

It was my turn to be surprised. A dwarf with a stiff back and a gleam in his eyes stood beside Eragon, who raised an eyebrow at me, and gave me a wink of secret acknowledgment. An incredibly beautiful woman with hair as dark and sweeping as a midnight waterfall and eyes like liquid moons, shaped like a cat's was tilting upon the balls of her feet to Ajihad's right. She looked at me, and I automatically touched my two forefingers to my mouth, and murmured, just as my father had taught me,

"Atra esterní ono thelduin."

Her own eyebrows were raised, and I could see I was correct; her pointed ears were a clear sign of being an elf. "Mor'ranr lífa unin hjarta onr." She replied, touching her own lips with her fingers.

I hesitated, wondering if I should continue with the third line, but a man to Ajihad's left cleared his throat, "May we proceed, Tamunora."

I curtseyed hastily, "Of course, sir. I apologise for my lateness."

Ajihad gave me a distracted expression; I saw that he was looked down at a map of Alagaësia that was exactly like my own, "My commander, Jörmundur. Jormundur, this is Tamunora, who has agreed to aid us with her magical powers and fighting skills."

I nodded, and stood back, as was expected, and I felt all their eyes upon me as I did so.

"I roused the six of you of you because we are all in grave danger. About half an hour ago a dwarf ran out of an abandoned tunnel under Tronjheim. He was bleeding and nearly incoherent, but he had enough sense left to tell the dwarves what was pursuing him: an army of Urgals, maybe a day's march from here."

Shock reverberated like a clash of metal between sword and sword, the sounded of it pulsing and breathing like a living thing, chasing its tail through the room. Yet I felt a shadow of scepticism; if the dwarf was nearly incoherent, then surely he would be confused of what he saw?

_Tamunora, he was incoherent because he was stabbed by Urgals! I'm sorry for intruding, but you projected your thoughts._

I jumped, and looked around. I noticed Saphira in the corner, staring right at me. _Saphira, I do apologise for not greeting you when I came in! And thank you for correcting my point._

She closed her eyes. _No matter. It is pleasant to talk to another Rider for a change. _

_I feel sorry for Eragon, _I mused, listening to Ajihad and Eragon arguing. _He doesn't know that he's not alone._

_Me too. _A waft of amusement swirled in my mind. _Be careful of your feelings for him; they are being called out like a battle cry in this barrel sized room._

_Don't worry, Saphira. I will do my best, even if it may not be good enough._

_Good. _She broke off the contact just as Eragon asked, "Why not collapse all the tunnels instead of leaving the large ones untouched?"

"Because," explained the Dwarf, "that would force the Urgals to clear away the rubble, and they might decide to go in a direction we don't want them to. Plus, if we cut ourselves off, they could attack other dwarf cities – which we wouldn't be able to assist in time."

_But..._I wondered. _But what if we don't collapse the tunnels in time?_

Half an hour later, I found myself in front of such a tunnel. Emereldo was in one nearby, and was enthusiastically smashing it up, ignoring my warnings of keeping a low a profile as possible. I took a deep breath, and searched for the weak points in the rock. To my delight, I instantly located them, and pulled upon my magic. "Jierda!" I shouted, hand outstretched, and the tunnel collapsed instantly. I was pleased to find that I wasn't more than slightly fatigued by the exertion.

Eragon was behind me, and was staring at the pile of rubble, clouds rising off of it like a mountain. "How did you do that?"

I shrugged, and ran to another tunnel, "I am a magician!" I called to him. He hurried after me, and watched me pull down another tunnel. Saphira wandered over, and I sensed that Emereldo was attacking the tunnel with more ferocity as she passed, which made me inwardly giggle. She growled in a friendly manner to me, and joined Eragon's side to bring another tunnel down.

This intrigued me, "Did Saphira help you with that Eragon?"

He looked defensive, and I regretted my words, "Yes. What of it?"

"Sorry! I didn't mean it that way. I meant that did you put your powers together to bring it down. I've never tri- I mean, I've never heard of it before."

Eragon relaxed, and replied, "We work as a team, she and I. If one of us is in trouble, we help them out. That's the nature of the relationship between a Rider and a dragon." He gave me a polite smile, and hastily turned his back.

The words settled into my brain, an unexpected but not unwelcome guest. I pondered their presence, then I dashed over to Emereldo, still struggling with the same tunnel, which refused to give.

_Hey Emereldo, let us try something on the tunnel._

He stopped, and regarded me with one of his orb like green eyes. _What is it?_

_Let's combine our powers to bring it down._

He considered it, and then he nodded. _Fine. But don't let Saphira see..._

_Fool. Eragon talked about it to me, and he does the same with Saphira. We should not let him see._

_Pah. Hypocrite. _Instinctively, I reached within myself, and felt the power within me. I located Emereldo's consciousness, which jolted when my power entered it, and it reared with an almighty crash and much swearing. I looked around, and saw that Emereldo was panting slightly, the tunnel completely fallen in. All the small tunnels had fallen in, and two of the larger had partially fallen in.

_Oops. I forget how strong my power is._

_No matter. At least we did some teamwork, and the tunnels are finished._

_Mmmm. But not something we can boast about together. I shall just deny it was me._

_What, and not let Eragon notice you?_

_It's dishonest. Anyway, there is no time to fanny around. The soldiers are nearly ready, see?_

In the distance, about two miles away, there was a bristling, sloshing sea of soldiers marching out of the city and into the crater where we stood, all ready to fill it with so much water that our enemies would drown. Or so we hoped.

_Yes. I hope to still know you after this, Tamunora. _Emereldo sounded curiously emotional.

_And I you. _I leant against his front left leg with a sigh, and hugged him close to me, wondering privately what this was truly all about.

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Swearing under my breath, I unsheathed my sword with a flourish, poising for impact as the Urgal raced towards me. When I heard the ragged breath and crows of thunder as his axe whistled through the air, I dodged as late as I dared, allowing his axe to become lodged in the ground. Taking advantage of this, I cut the handle of the axe with my sword as if I were casually harvesting my crops. Furious, the Urgal pulled a sword and began to attack me with an extraordinary vigour which I managed to match. At first, I was reluctant to kill him, as my father's voice echoed through my mind; _Just the same as us._

Yet, when I saw the spark of a blazing fire in the Urgal's eyes, and as his friends came to surround me, I suddenly felt a determination to live, with so many people's faces flashing before me, wheeling me to jump backwards out of its way before it should crush me, and I held my hand up, barking, with curiously dry eyes, "Brisingr!"

My hand razed with a perplexing beauty of green flame; it looked as if a wild, haunted forest had sprouted out of me, with the intent of destroying anything that entered its winding path, and it roared across the air, growing at cosmic speeds, strangling the Urgals before me. Sickened, I ran away from them, and vented my feelings by knocking one of the Urgals nearest to me to his knees with the flat of my sword, which of course only made me feel worse.

_Tamunora? Are you being irrational or are you fighting for something? Show everyone that you are a dragon rider that commands the due respect, and remember that Urgals love war. To not fight them is to deprive them of what they love best. To be truly equal to them, you must think like them. So go and call on Brisingr again, and spare nothing._

I stared at the Urgal who had fallen over beginning to get up, giving me a furious expression, and felt a worm of reason wriggle into my mind. _I don't want to kill these Urgals, but I must, for my father, for Eragon, for the whole world. These Urgals have no argument with me either, but they must kill me. Therefore, I shall have to fight...to the death. _Taking a deep breath, I charged over to the Urgal, who snarled at me, and this time I didn't hold back. I quickly managed to gain advantage, and plunged my sword into the Urgal's stomach, making him choke and splutter as his guts spilled out everywhere.

I winced, and, jumping as high as I could, slipped his head off. He toppled to the ground, leaving an inordinate mess, contrasting to the charred cleanliness of the burnt Urgals. I shook my head vigorously to be free of the images, and ran over into the fight, conjuring flames where I deemed them necessary.

It was soon to be apparent that the Varden were losing. The Urgals were pushing us further and further back towards the city, and many men were falling against the Urgals' might. Desperate, and not caring of the secret, I screamed in my mind, _Emereldo! Come here!_

_I'm coming! _I saw him above me, and he swooped down low enough for me for me to climb on. He flapped his wings fastidiously to dodge the Urgals, and we rose far above the battle, and it was also clear that Saphira and Eragon had disappeared. This made me panic, and I sensed Emereldo's shimmering worry within him.

_Well, _I stated shakily, _I can't see their dead bodies, so they must be elsewhere..._

_Yes. They must be. _In an effort to cheer us both up, he added, _how about some mischief to turn this battle around?_

_Sounds like a challenge. You will have to get closer though; I'm not strong enough to shoot from up here._

_Agreed. But If I start becoming a scaly porcupine rather than a dragon, we're going higher, all right?_

I giggled, despite myself. _Agreed. Down we go!_

He tilted his body downwards, and we raced towards the battle again, like a bright shooting star as sparks of my magic blasted off, killing Urgals (well, apart from once) from a source where it was least expected.

Suddenly I felt the atmosphere shift, and I felt my eyes widen, when I saw that the Urgals began fighting each other. A swirling black cloud drifted above us, and, scared, I forged a circular block around the both of us, Emereldo supporting me with his strength, and it bounced off of us into the tunnels, presumably to possess someone else, as it all laid itself out in my mind, and I crowed a crow of joy.

_That was a shade, was it not? And Eragon must have killed him. _

_Obviously. This is brilliant! _I flicked a spell down into a group of Urgals, which blasted them into flames, making the Varden retreat hastily, swearing audibly. _Mmmm, maybe that was un-necessary. _

_Not completely. See, it's now easier to drive them back down the tunnel. _His tone became impressed. _Try again._

I obediently blasted more Urgals into the forest green coolness of the flames, making them roar with pain. I finally felt a tear trickle out of the corner of my eye, and I collapsed against Emereldo. _Why did you choose me? Why didn't you choose that creepy boy?_

He chuckled, _Because I thought that you would make a better rider than that foolish boy. And I liked the idea of bearing the first female dragon rider."_

Surprised, I riffled through the encyclopaedia of Riders I had in my mind, and found that they were all men. _I've never thought about that. _I admitted, staring down at the last of the Urgal being forced out of the confines of Farthen Dûr. 

_Well, you have now. Keep it in mind in case you want to go down in legend. _He flew over to the top of Tronjheim, and glided down into the hold. The sight that greeted me gripped my heart in an iron cast grip, strangling me from sanity just for a moment.

The Isidar Mithrim lay in ruin far below, little fragments of what it had been. The little red pieces lay like the blood of a battlefield, a visual reminder for those who would wish to forget how it felt to kill. The sight of them let my tears flow more freely, and I just wanted to scream to the Gods, if they truly were there for the injustice of it all. Yet as Emereldo wordlessly floated down to the circular chamber, I saw a sight that gripped my heart to near death.

Eragon lay, as shattered and broken as the beautiful Isidar Mithrim, by the edge of the chamber. His back was ripped open to the world, just like my heart as the tears began to leak, the pent up water gushing from the dam as I knelt down beside him. I desperately began to try healing him, crying out the words, begging for the - whoever was in charge! – to allow me to bring him back, but it refused to heal, merely the blood to stop trickling. Exhausted, I then proceeded to, without listening to my usual thoughts of sense, lift him exceedingly gently, ignoring the protestations I deafly heard. It was then I traced the path back to her...what was her name? Ah yes, _Angela._

I ran as fast as I dared, keeping him close to me, not caring how the blood soaked my dress, but taking careful that my armour didn't hurt him. I burst into her room, where she was attending to who appeared to be Murtagh. She looked at me calmly.

"Heal him, please!" I blustered, panting. She quickly prepared a poultice, and when I saw an empty bed, I laid him gently there, and began to pull off his shirt, trying not to stare, and began to clean him all over, and turned him over gently to his front, so his scar would not pain him in his sleep. Or so I hoped that he slept. The elf was behind me, watching me silently, as was Saphira.

I only stopped my attendance when the elf pulled me lightly away, and placed me on a soft chair, allowing me to watch Eragon intently.

"That was a brave thing to do, Tamunora. Rash, but brave." I looked over to the source of the voice, and saw Murtagh looking at me with a solemn expression, with an almost jaunty bandage on his head.

I smiled, and looked down at my hands, "It was necessary. He is the future of Alagaësia, and I didn't want to see him rot away when I could help."

He nodded, understanding. My mind flew back to how I had watched the two men fighting when I first 'met' them, and could see how he understood. There was now a bond between us three, whether we liked it or not...

"Tamunora?"

"Mmmm hmmm?"

"I have...a question to ask you. I'd rather not ask you now, as it is not appropriate in these circumstances, but will you promise to be ready to hear it."

I nodded, "Wiol ono." _For you. _His eyes brightened with those binding words, and once again nodded. He then turned over to sleep, leaving me to ponder vaguely what the question was, until I sensed Emereldo enter the room, and he winked at me as he went over to Saphira, stood by Eragon's bed, motionless. He touched her snout softly, and she did the same back to him. I laughed wryly when I sensed his emotions.

_Go on then, but be careful._

He was mockingly affronted, _Don't tell me what's carefully and reckless anymore._


	13. Chapter 13

**Disillusion Reflection**

"Tamunora, my dear, you need rest. Why don't you go to bed?" I vaguely heard Angela to my left.

"No thank you." I replied, stiffly sitting upon the chair.

"Tamunora, your dedication is admirable but you look exhausted and Eragon will not wake for many more hours." I recognised the voice as the dwarf's.

"I will be fine." I murmured, reaching for my magic to give my strength to him when I could.

"Tamunora, you risk death expending all this energy into Eragon. Allow him to save himself." That was the elf, but her words made me hesitate. Emereldo looked at me. _We have been here for too long. We should allow Saphira to stay with Eragon – you're acting too emotional to remain sensible in front of these people, and Arya is beginning to suspect something._

_Arya? Is she the elf?_

_Yes. I do not wish to offend you, but you're closer to ghost than a human._

_If that's what it takes. Eragon must wake up._

_For what reasons? Your own, or the Empire's?_

Before I could answer that, Murtagh was suddenly beside me, and placed his hand on my shoulder, "May we speak in private, Tamunora? You promised to hear my question."

I looked from Eragon to Murtagh, torn, but Angela jumped up, and ushered us out, exclaiming, "Why must you fight a battle that has already been won? Eragon will be fine, you'll see." Murtagh took my arm and steered me away from the room along the glowing corridor outside, lit by little red lanterns.

We walked along in a comfortable silence, our footsteps in swinging symphony dancing and colliding between and into the walls. I looked up at him, and he smiled at me, and I reciprocated. He laughed, and said, "You look nice when you smile."

"Thank you. So do you; why don't you smile more? Urgals aren't here to kill you, nor do the Varden want to skin you...or, at least, not at the moment."

He scuffed the ground awkwardly, "I haven't known you for very long, but you know why."

I nodded, but I pointed out, "Yet that was the past! If we didn't shrug off the heavy weight of our pasts, we would never reach the top of the mountain."

"True." We turned right into a corridor lit with green lanterns, which cheered me significantly, and I jokingly pranced around in the light, dodging the shadows it threw at me, making Murtagh snigger, "You're a curious one, Tamunora." He commented, but he joined in my game, flicking to and fro like the action of an eyelid blinking down and up. We kept this up until I slipped on an unseen wet patch, and he caught me before I could hit the floor, holding me in that position, arms against mine, so absurdly close that I shivered inwardly.

I looked upwards, and saw his features far clearer than I could on any summer's day; it was almost as if someone had finally opened the heavily locked door with an almighty shove, and I found something that I didn't expect. It held a quality almost comparable to Eragon's visage, and I felt my breath catch when I saw it, so clear and bright above me, all around me...

I felt my tongue leading me into the previously unseen room, "Murtagh, what was the question you wanted to ask?"

He hesitated, and pulled me up into a more dignified position, smoothing down his jerkin self consciously, "It's not...it's not easy for me to ask such a question because of my current situation...and it would be too presumptuous to demand the answer I desire...and – and it would be unfair to impose my situation on you." I began to form a hunch on what he was to say, which caused my knees to tremble as if they wished to carry me somewhere far, far away, but I forced myself to stay, "So before I ask you, will you promise in the ancient language to not tell anyone of this event?"

_Easy enough, _I thought, however my underlying suspicions, "Eka celobra yawë nosu." _I honour our pact. _I wondered privately if Murtagh understood any of the ancient language I spoke, and hoped feverently that he did.

His face relaxed, and he looked me into the eyes, and said, "I have known this deep inside, from the moment that this one woman saw me as a human, and not just a _creation_ of Morzan and the Black Hand, a thing that people want to just shove out of sight quickly, a mistake that shouldn't have happened...You are so different to me, Tamunora, yet you have shown me a respect that only Eragon has equalled." He breathed in, a gust of wind that carried us up out of the mountain, up into the sky above where I knew stars were beginning to saunter in to come and see the events of the night, "Tamunora, I am in love with you, and I would like to ask; are you in love with me?" His dark eyes delved into mine, enticing, powerful...the same as Eragon's, but different. The pain fades, but the scars remain, and it showed.

At first, I floundered in these troubled waters; what was I expected to reply? I could lie, but that would further complicate the situation, as Emereldo...his emotions and mine overlapped, and he would struggle to bond with Murtagh as he and Saphira are becoming attached, and also my newly discovered feelings for Eragon made me want to scream '_No!' _at Murtagh for standing in my way, as if I carried a precious bundle and I thought him a thief. Yet if I told the truth, I would lose an important ally, and I knew Murtagh would be dangerous enemy, and he had never had anything in his life...

Yet before I could answer, his expression changed. His mouth became a straight, solemn line, and I cringed at what I knew he would say, so I prepared myself for the hard, gritty landing.

"I see. I tried to deny it to myself, but I should have seen it earlier. You are in love with Eragon, and your only interest in me is because I'm his friend." I felt my jaw drop, and I quickly began to protest wildly, but just like the first rough encounter, he clamped his hand roughly over my mouth, "Why is it that you chose him? He is still young and immature, whilst I am older and mature beyond my years, and we have much more in common. Eragon depends on others, whilst we work alone."

I smacked his hand away furiously, "That's because he had a different upbringing to you! He was able to depend on others as he grew up, whilst all your parents gave you was a flutter of life and a scar upon your back, as the story goes. You are no worse or better than him; you are just different. As for why I chose him, I have no choice in the matters of the heart. As you know full well, no one does! In fact, who has a choice in most of the things they do?"

He sneered, but I saw a tear well up in one of his eyes, "Such as you being a dragon rider? Oh yes, it sounds very cosy; Emereldo and Saphira falls in love, and Tamunora and Eragon fall in love. And what about Murtagh? Oh, he was a mistake; let's just sweep him out of sight so no one must worry about him causing trouble. Why can't I stand up and say what I think, what I believe? Why is it that not even one thing in my life works out?" The tears began to escape, spilling down his cheeks, creeping secrets padding out in front of me. Guilt being my driving force, I reached my arm around my shoulders, in order to comfort him, but he shoved it away, and glared at me, an attack from a blade I could not dodge.

"Don't touch me! My life is worth nothing to you. You give me sympathy, but it was a light, lazy touch, just enough so it could be covered in honey for me to be enticed by your capricious ways. So I think the only path forwards is to die, which will make you realise what you have rejected. No one will know of what has just occurred, but I doubt they will ask where I even gone, let alone whether I'm dead or not." He began laughing, a laugh that reminded me of a tree or a large rock falling towards you; it held a paralysing inevitable note, "At least an Urgal can get a Ram with my shed blood!" He shoved past me and began to stalk away.

"Murtagh!" I cried, shaken, "Your life means something to me; it's just it's not how you want it to be. It means so much to me that I want to see you grow, to love, to embrace peace within yourself, but my heart cannot be shifted like a scales, nor is yours."

He looked back at me, and simply said, "You haven't led a life where happiness came hand in hand with the blue moon. Farewell, Tamunora Dreamslayer. You have delivered my final blow." He disappeared into the dusty distance.

I fell to the ground onto my knees. I felt them hurt, but my body felt so numb that I wouldn't have noticed if a snake came to bit me, and left me to bleed until nothing within me remained, if there was anything left for my body to lose, as I was completely, utterly drained_, _Murtagh's words echoing like an out of tune song. It was excruciating, maddening...

I don't know how long I was there; I wouldn't have cared whether it was a few seconds or three hundred years, as my mind began to leave me and all that remained was Murtagh's hurt face reverberating from the finest tips of my hair to the tickles of my toes, his entire sanity stripped away just by my foolish indecision. It was not until I felt the warming itch of a blanket carefully gathered around my shoulders, and a person lifting me softly, carrying me...carrying me home...

_Home...where is it?_

_Where you believe it to be, Tamunora. _A voice, speaking in the Ancient Language; the mere sound of it gave me strength.

I felt my mind vaguely jolt. _Sorry, but who are you?_

The soft consciousness stroked my own, allowing peace to begin cleansing my wounds. _I am an elf, and my people have named me Aiedail, which means..._

_Morning Star, yes. _I wondered privately who in all of Alagaësia the elf actually was.

_You carry a powerful name Tamunora, and you attempt too much, and too early, to shoulder the full implications. Allow yourself some time gather the strength, allow yourself to make mistakes, and most of all allow yourself to know when to stop. I have directed Arya to your location, and she is taking you to where you belong._

_Home? _I asked hopefully, wondering what mother would make of it all, and how she would react when I wasn't with father.

_No, to where you belong. It may not feel like home yet, but as a dragon rider, it is perhaps too much to presume that home is what is was._

I was alarmed, _You mean that my family-?_

_No, do not fret. They are all still alive, but don't know if you are. Yet don't always assume that where your family is, is where home is. It's where the heart is. _

I felt the soft cushioning effect of Arya sitting me on a chair, and she hurrying over to someone who was attempting to stand up. With a rush of pleasure, I realised who it was, and I felt a welling of proud, uncensored joy twist happily inside of me. _You are right, Aiedail. I don't understand my heart yet, but I am sure that I will one day, and so know where home is. No map can navigate me in these lands..._

_You are wise for your age, Tamunora, but whilst no map can indeed direct you easily and with no effort, no one leaves on a journey without some direction to travel in. Come to Ellesméra, and let us be your guardians. We shall not lead you, but we shall teach you and train you so you may travel with more needed haste._

"Tamunora? Are you all right? You have been gone for two days! What happened?" Arya's musical voice was strained.

_Follow the Northern pattern – your map shall reveal our location. _Her voice drifted away as my mind warmed to its surroundings, and I found myself sitting in the chair beside Eragon's bed, as if nothing at all had happened, apart from Murtagh had...well, been "swept away".

"I have been given a way to go." A ghost of a smile dusted my dry mouth, and I coughed, "Which is more than can be said for Murtagh."

The next day, rested, cleansed and energised, with the previous events slinking away behind me back in the dimly lit corridors of my memory, but were complaining of my departure, I packed my bag, and I tied it to the saddle I had made from magic and leather I have bought from the Varden's tanner that morning to place on Emereldo's back. I had decided that it would be necessary after discovering how much the holding magic weakened me in the battle of Farthen Dûr, and that I wished to travel in more comfort than before.

I strapped the bag to Emereldo, along with a new bow and set of arrows, which I had never had before, and was a present from Ajihad in gratitude for my help with the Varden. Nasuada, his very patient and energetic daughter, tried to teach how to use it, but I kept dropping it, so I promised that I would practise as I travelled.

_Your eyes have increased in weight. _Emereldo observed worriedly. He felt guilty for not coming for me when I needed him; He had been preoccupied with looking after Saphira. I did not admonish him; however, as I knew that even if he tried to help me, it would not solve the problem that my hesitation had created.

_Aye. They feel like it too. But all I need is time to give me the strength, as Aiedail said._

He inclined his head; He had heard what she had said to me. _I suppose so...but I have been a bad friend towards you. I hatched for you because I believed, down in the depths of my consciousness, that you would be the right partner for life. I cannot just turn around on my decision, even if it was one when I wasn't even a hatchling, just because my selfish desires are too powerful for me to resist._

I shook my head, vehemently disagreeing with him, and leaned against his hard, but warm scales, his right wing a soft, leathery canvas above me, a pale green sky above me, genteel to the eye. _Everyone has selfish desires, and a true friend can accept their friend's as they realise that they have the same ones. I have my own selfish desires; I hide you so Eragon doesn't know who I am, and so I can advance this relationship more easily with you acting as a bridge. Do not take more blame than you are due, which is none, as it is for me, and for the whole world, even the King. He never chose to be who he is, and to change would be impossible._

He touched me with his snout, eyes glittering and shimmering in the streaming light. _Little one..._

There was a loud scream down below, followed by much crying and a multitude of oaths, some of which I had never heard of before. Taking a mental note to remember them, I inched over to the edge of the former Isidar Mithrim, and peered over.

Ants raced around the circular hill, around the bitter red drops of the shattered glass, frantically calling for each other, exchanging pieces of paper, a heartfelt tear, a soft condolence. Amongst it all, I saw Eragon and Nasuada stood amongst them all, still, staring into space, all energy soaked by the defeat on their faces. Fearing the worse, I called for them.

"Eragon, what has happened? I came up here to find you, but you weren't here...Nasuada, also, please explain, if you can bear it." The lie I told Eragon stung me, but it would have looked suspicious otherwise.

Nasuada shook her head, so Eragon looked me in the eyes in such a way that thrilled me, and said, as blandly as he could bear, "Ajihad is dead. Murtagh and two other magicians have been captured, and presumed dead also."

I clapped my hands to my mouth, my heart not only stinging from Ajihad's death and those two magicians capture, but how Murtagh wasn't lying; he was willing to kill himself to hit me where it hurt the most.

_Well, it has worked. Perhaps too well. _I thought grimly, and with renewed vigour, I fitted the saddle upon Emereldo, knowing that it was urgent that I would have to leave, even though I shouldn't have.


	14. Chapter 14

**Carried To Away**

"Why are you leaving?"

I looked around, feeling guilty when I saw Arya, who had spoken, and Nasuada standing behind me, watching me like two contrasting but no less determined wildcats, seeing what I, the delectable target would do next. Emereldo was looking away, and the way he was clicking his talons, he was feeling as awkward as I. "Because we must." I replied, brushing a stray hair out of my face.

"Before Ajihad has been buried?" She arched her eyebrow brusquely, "Before you can say goodbye? Before the new Varden leader has been chosen?"

"No one will notice our absence. You have heard the stories; they think Eragon is a powerful magician because there was a 'second' Saphira flying above the battlefield, who had mysteriously changed the colour of her scales. The Varden therefore will not be able to require my assistance, and goodbyes would not be practical, as we should honour a dead man's words and keep our presence hidden from Eragon." I took a deep breath, and looked at the ground, "So Galbatorix won't attack the Varden right out to capture two of us. If I tarry, I will increase the danger everyone is under, which is why I also think Eragon should leave, but not with me, as he is too well known."

Both women seemed to consider this for a few moments, and then Nasuada said, her voice nowhere near the crackling, merry warmth her voice had only that morning, before the final rain drops came to fall to douse it all away, "She speaks sense, Arya. I can see that she does not wish for it to be this way, but if it how my father decreed it to be, then it shall be. Allow her to depart, as perhaps she has been here too long. Before you should go, however, Tamunora," She stepped aside, revealing a dwarf with long red hair, full armour and inquisitive blue eyes, "This young dwarf knows of you, and wishes to accompany you to where you wish to go, as his father was a great traveller, which is unusual amongst the dwarves, and an opportunity you cannot deny him."

Wearily, I peeked at Emereldo. _If it makes them happy, he can come along; it would be a good idea to have extra protection on the way. But what do you think? Will you be able to carry him?_

He snorted, but sniggered a deep gruffle. _Of course I can carry him; however, dwarves and dragons have always been sworn enemies, have they not? SO I believe this is the first time ever that a dwarf has ridden a dragon. An adventure indeed! More a way to be rid of a misfit, to be honest._

This made me briefly think of Murtagh. I blinked, and shoved it away, "Emereldo and I will take him, as long as he will help to defend himself and doesn't mind speaking the human language sometimes, as my Dwarvish is limited."

"That is becoming of fun." Piped up the dwarf with a cheeky smile. I winked at him, and Emereldo lowered himself to the ground so he could clamour on awkwardly. It was then that I bid the women farewell, and after climbing upon Emereldo's back, left the city, which was now defended by steely eyed guards, seeing what they wished to be blind to, and after traversing to a tunnel that the dwarf insisted that we took, which led us eventually to a cave that yawned into a new valley. The sight of the scrubby, lush, green grass tickled me to a giggle of joy, and I could feel Emereldo wishing to dance from it all. Even the dwarf didn't mind leaving the rock behind, his eyes aglow with adventure.

"What is your name, dwarf?" I asked him.

"Kuthian, Lady Tamunora." He smiled at me, his eyes even brighter in the sunshine.

"To you, I am simply Tamunora, as we are three equal travellers on a long journey. Rank means nothing in this war." In truth, I felt uncomfortable at the honorific, as if I had stolen something of value meant for someone else.

"It is understood, Tamunora." He began to whistle, which made Emereldo rumble in a quaking laugh, spurting out puffs of smoke, a sign that he would soon be able to breathe fire.

"Right, let's go then."

It wasn't until three days later that we encountered a mishap. I say mishap so to not exaggerate the event to ridiculous heights...we were flying fast and high above the west plains, when a tantamount endlessly reaching roof, precarious in its construction, threatened to fall. I had experienced a storm before, but Emereldo and Kuthian had not, and if logic could have been applied, the sky was threatening to fall on our heads, and if standing under a tree is unfortunate, sitting atop a dragon's back was suicide itself.

_Emereldo! We have to get down to the ground, or we will be nuked! _

_No we won't. I'm taking us far faster than the speed of the clouds. It will miss us, as we will leave the plains by the end of the day. _

_Don't be a ninny; I can feel you straining against the increasing wind. Land so the lightning doesn't strike you, then us._

_You're being the ninny; worrying about something that plainly won't happen. Put your faith in me, or I shall consider leaving you in a tree._

_There isn't one._

_...touché._

Despite this, he kept going, leaving me to steam in a sulky silence. If it were not for the speed we were travelling, I would have expected to see a sliver of smoke coming from my ears.

"Tamunora," Kuthian touched my shoulder, "I believe we should land..."

"As do I, but the stubborn mule plods on."

_I heard that. _So came the resentful voice.

_Good. You were meant to. _I began to murmur the words for a shield to be built around us, as the first blinks of light crept in the horizon, and the wind became blinding in its energy.

"Kuthian, may I take some of your energy to sustain the shield?"

He conceded, and I cautiously withdrew as much as I dared to take to form the shield as the wind roared like a beast, like another dragon wishing to rip Emereldo apart, then us...

Sparks tinkered along the shield, and I snatched at the energy they held to sustain the shield, which took on a silvery green quality as it strengthened. For some time, it seemed that it would hold, but then the lightning sudden stopped, and I was forced to release the shield, panting for breath, but was silenced in my exertion as the wind slapped us in such a way that a thousand hands shoved us aside at once. I held tightly on the young dwarf, determined that his small size would not mean his untimely death.

Emereldo pushed against these hands, his wings flailing in crashing blows against the wind, but he failed, and merely succeeded in being blown away, with us helplessly dragged along with it. Triumphant, the hands carried us, to where we didn't know.

I was the only one of the three conscious when the wind finally died as we were dragged out of the plains by the wind, which I guessed took us North Westwards. I had managed to soften Emereldo's landing, and I hastily untied Kuthian from the saddle, and began attending to his various wounds, despite my fatigue. When I had finished, I flopped down, and stared out to where we were.

To the North, I saw a broad stretch of water, tapered like a girdle to some impressive peaks, though not as impressive as the Beors, gemmed with deep green trees. When I consulted my map, I wondered if I was wrong, and we had actually managed to go North East, and we were near the Isentar Lake, located on the South West end of the Du Weldenvarden, where father had accidentally mentioned as the homeland of the Elves, and was forced to show me the location of their cities on this map.

Before I could puzzle this more, I heard the unmistakeable rumble of horses, coming towards us. I reached for my sword, braced for a fight if necessary. I had been practising with Kuthian, who, despite his severe height disadvantage, held his own with his axe against me, so I was confident that I could defend us all.

I saw them, distinct and proud, delighted in the power they held, their red uniform polished to an unearthly glow. Unmistakably, they were part of the King's army, and gave the unquestionable impression that they knew it.

I felt my arms tense, ready to make their uniform just that duller a shade, before I saw the face of one of the soldiers, which clamped at my heart, and snatched it away without a by your leave, without any discussion...it was that boy, only now a man, yet this change had made no difference in him; he was the same in my memory as he was in reality, the same when drunk and when sober...I could almost feel my sword become too hot to hold at the sight of him.

"So, where is this Carvahall, then?" He asked casually to the other four men.

One of them, who had a hooked nose, shrugged, and replied, "Not sure exactly, but I am sure that we could make a quick job of this!" They all laughed callously, making my blood boil, the hot white of my eyes scalding against the cool iron nature of my resolve. I didn't know anything about this village called Carvahall, aside from it was marked on the map beside a mountain range called the Spine, but the way they talked it to be a "To-Destroy" place, made me speechlessly angry.

When, they became close enough, I leapt in front of them, daring them to attack. The horses bucked wildly, tipping the boy-man off and his friends off onto the hard ground. He was the first up, and, spitting the blood out of his mouth, he glared at me, and snarled,

"What did you do that for, stupid wench? I would have your head for such empty-headedness, unless you are...compliant." His friends laughed raucously at that comment.

"No thank you; you get far too frustrated and selfish in the bedroom to be of much satisfaction." I said calmly, even though all that I had was fast flooding all around me.

His eyes widened as his friends laughed even harder at my reply, then he crossed his arms awkwardly, "Tamunora?"

I narrowed my eyes, "Good to know that you remember my name, for you never told me yours."

His primary annoyance slunk back to him, and his arms tightened, "It wasn't...necessary."

"Is that right? Well, it would have been nice to know, so I could have stopped my father acting as he did, or I acting the way I did towards you, and the whole _egg _saga would have been resolved quicker. Do you ever wonder who Emereldo should have hatched to?"

He scowled, "Night and day, and I still believe it was meant to be me, even though I was rejected. The mark on my hand is still present." He bore his right hand, and I was forced to take a step back; it was silvery, yet withered and weak, in clear contrast to the ease that he held his sword, which I knew meant that the magic imbued there meant that because he was the first to touch a newborn dragon he still was privy to some of Emereldo's power.

_He shall be hard to defeat, especially with all these men to contend with also, and Kuthian and Emereldo unable to help makes it more than a touch harder. Yet I think it's still possible...by the gods, this feels like I'm talking to myself, I think I should stop._

He withdrew his right hand, and drew his sword, "For my curse to be cured, I believe that I must kill you, dear sweet Tamunora, and so take what is rightfully mine, so you may repent for eternity in the afterlife for what you did to me. But I want an equal match, so you shall go down in legend as the first and last fraud Rider."

I was indignant, "How dare you call me fraud, when you bear such marks yourself? Our own King is a fraud Rider himself, so I think he has beaten me to that prestigious title."

He growled at me, "Now I truly mean my words; such an insult on our great leader doesn't validate you to be as true as a leader should be. For this, stupid wench, I think the ground cries for your spilled blood."

And so we fought, swords screeching for dominance, curses as the other blocked our own attacks. The other men stood back, making infuriating remarks on my swordplay because of my gender, which spurned me on to perform faster attacks, making him quail before me, and I finally took the upper hand with a complex pattern that surprised me, knocking him deftly to the ground, he panting and shamed, I, cold yet sorrowful.

"I yield." He muttered, throwing aside his sword. I nodded, and stood back. As he got up, and dusted himself down, a word came to my lips, a word that pulled at such intensity that I would compare it to an arrow burrowing through paper. Without my consent, it flew through my mouth, and shot him in a final blow, making him stand so still, it would appear that he would fall where he stood. His face twisted into in excruciating pain, and he screamed, pregnant tears spawning from his eyes.

I put my hands to my mouth, shocked. Had I guessed his true name? It was the only reasonable explanation. That meant that I understood him better than anyone else, even myself. What was it in him that I understood so well? By the Gods, was I anything like him, resenting a decision beyond my power? I thought of Eragon, and our forced segregation, and I hastily shoved it aside.

What happened next was a mere numbing blur, circling so slowly in front of him. His name was so terrible, that I simply couldn't know it anymore, and when he begged me to kill him, I couldn't help but comply, despite my protestations that he could change, that he wasn't set for life. But he adamant, and his sober friends merely looked on.

"Before I must kill you," I whispered, as he knelt in front of me, and I placed my hand on his head, "Could you tell me your name?"

"You already know it," He rasped, giving a crispy chuckle, "Knew it better than I did. However, remember me not under my misdeeds, but under the most ironic name ever; Evandar, the name of the previous Elf King."

I nodded, and then I bent down for our eyes to meet; grey upon green, "And now I must repay you from before." I leaned in, and kissed him gently upon his lips, unsure of whether it was the right thing to do, yet when I saw his expression, I knew that I was sending this man in peace.

I reached for my magic, and searched within him for his beating heart, and gently stilled it, calling upon a phrase my father loved to quote; _Our words are a mere illusion of who we really are._

He fell to the ground, a look of peace on his face. I looked up at the four other men, and wasn't surprised to find that they had disappeared, along with his horse. Gently, then, I lifted Evandar, and carried him to a pretty little bush that had survived the harsh life that faced any creature brave enough to live in this area. With magic, I dug a hole, and placed him body within it, laying his body so it appeared that he were sleeping. Before I covered it over, however, with a wrench, I reached within my pocket, and took out that necklace that my mother had given to me that night. With care, I placed it upon his body, and covered him over. I guessed that if he couldn't have the brightest emerald in the land, he could have the next best thing.

"Emereldo!" I called, wishing him to awake, but, instead, the soil patch rumbled, and up sprung a dazzling collection of flowers, their green leaves as soft and bright as the scales of a dragon.

_I could not give more than that. May his soul rest in peace._ I turned back, and wandered over to Emereldo and Kuthian, who finally beginning to awake.


	15. Chapter 15

**Diligent Dapple**

When Emereldo and Kuthian finally awoke, they were bemused to see that I was still kneeling in front of the bush, my thoughts simmering so low within me they could have been below ground also, my hands laid over the sword he had left behind, contemplating whether to bring it along, or to leave it in respect. My sword was severely chipping and scratched, whilst his was comparatively smooth and bright, shining liquid pooling in my eyes in the evening light, and I knew that the King would make sure it was made out of high quality steel...

Yet it felt wrong, almost as if like taking a prisoner that could no longer fight back, and I could feel _his _ghost wavering in the air, even though hours had passed, watching me, ready to pounce if I even tried to 'capture' it.

Emereldo understood instantly. He padded over to me softly, and gazed directly at the bush with the little emerald flowers blooming slowly despite the darkness. _You had to, Tamunora, and you have honoured him like a true warrior, despite the resentment he carried upon his back. However, if you hold such doubts in taking his sword, I recommend that you leave it here, and ask the elves for a new one. Personally, I'd rather not fight alongside a weapon commissioned by the man we are meant to be fighting._

I sheathed it with a sigh. _Perhaps, but it's also fair trade, as I gave him my necklace and defeated him in combat. I can feel his ghost now, watching to see what I'll do._

_If that's so, act in his interests; it's not good to offend the dead. _I nodded stiffly, seeing his logic, and placed the sword amongst the crowd. He touched the flowers, and they span, releasing a sliver of glitter sprout like a delicate waterfall over our heads, making me giggle, and the flowers became taller, twisting around each other, faster and faster, until they formed a large, serviceable plateau out of its heads. I stared at it, enthralled, and touched them.

My hand came in contact with something hard. Frowning, I pulled at it, and I gasped. Mother's necklace had reappeared, only it was, if it were possible, even more beautiful than before.

_Astonishing...it's astonishing what such small acts can do._

_Aye. Do let us not forget this, Tamunora, even when we become old, fat and wise._

_If we ever see any of them._

_Oh, we will. Eventually. _He stretched casually, and sauntered back over to Kuthian, who was struggling to get out of the blankets I had thrown over him.

"Pardon me, Tamunora, but what on earth do humans use to make blankets? Strings made of frozen fire? I shall become molten rock before I can discard this wretched blanket."

I laughed, but pulled it gently off him, "No, I beg for your pardon; I forget that dwarves are smaller and therefore better at staying warm than humans." I held out a hand to help him up, "How are you?" I asked as he swayed on the spot.

"As right as stalactites, thank you. Will we be continuing tonight, or will we be resting?"

I hesitated, and then I replied, "We should travel through the night to reach Osilon tomorrow afternoon. I don't think we should tarry; I believe there are ambushers around." I cursed to myself when I realised that those men would be racing back to Ûru'baen, and the King would know about Emereldo and I possibly before we reached the city, and I would be in trouble.

_I agree. _He sounded worried as well, and was obviously anxious to leave. _The earlier we leave the safer we shall be._

Kuthian had heard this, and although there was a creasing of puzzle on his forehead, he nodded dogmatically, and proceeded to climb upon Emereldo's back once more. I picked up my blanket, threw it into my pack again, and climbed deftly up in front of the young dwarf, and as Emereldo took off with a mighty sweep, carrying us ever closer to the distant white capped peaks flanked by forest to our east, I couldn't help but look back, seeing that lonely little shrine, that I couldn't help but erect in my heart, lonely against the other multitude of things I had to strive for, to fight with iron in my blood and vengeance soaking my arms. I wished feverently that the war would one day end, and Emereldo and I could live in peace.

We managed to find the city by late the next evening, Emereldo's wings almost crackling with the effort he required to keep flying, Kuthian falling asleep against me, and I, hollow from the lack of food and my body insistent on something to eat. Yet our sufferings were forgotten when we crossed the forests boundaries, when we met with a mist that halted us gently, and asked for our business in the Ancient Language. The peace of his presence made us all smile, and I replied that I was a rider to Emereldo, and our companion was Kuthian, here to help us on our venture. He bowed to us, and bade us farewell, naming me 'Secret Rider'. I liked that name.

We saw more examples of magic sneaking and weaving in and out of the ancient trees, some older than the elves themselves, as wandering spirits passed our camps, few stopping to talk to us, but were mainly vague in their conversation when they spoke. Animals unlike ones I had ever seen before patrolled the forest, building the great canopy many creatures lived under, sheltering in its green light.

And so, finally, the city of Osilon. At first, we were not positive we had found it, but it soon became clear that those great oaks held the city's inhabitants fast within their strong, soft arms, reaching out for others to join the embrace, or at least those who would seek it. There were loud cries of wonder as we landed, and they all gathered around us, exclaiming at our appearance. One forthright elf, with long silver hair and dark eyes, commented,

"Yet you are a woman, and your dragon blends so well in the forest!"

I touched my lips with my two fingers, and murmured the proper greeting, which she responded in kind. I then replied, speaking slowly so I wouldn't mispronounce the words, "I am not the rider than you have heard such noble tales of. I am the Secret Rider, which means I have to keep quiet, even if it should be the right thing to shout."

There was a collective surprised sound, and most of them were nodding in understanding, and all they quickly dispersed when another elf approached me, obviously holding a position of respect over these other elves. She was tall, graceful and lithe even for elf standards, with arched eyebrows and curved lips that were softly framed by waving blonde hair that rippled down her back. I hastily greeted her with the traditional words. She regarded me with amusement as she touched her mouth also,

"There is no need to look so afraid anymore Tamunora. You are in a world where you may call home for as long as you wish, as shall Emereldo, if he so chooses. However, may I ask your companion's name...?"

"Kuthian, my lady." The dwarf seemed to be following the Ancient Language reasonably well, which, admittedly, marked him out to be a further oddity amongst his race.

This seemed to please her, and she nodded to him. She then turned to me again, eyes a bright contrast in the fading light, "Tamunora, if I may be so harsh, I suggest that you leave Kuthian here, as we have matters in Ellesméra that require you and Emereldo's presence, and it would not be wise for Kuthian to be present."

"I understand, my lady." I whispered, forming a hunch on what these 'matters' were.

"Good. And from now on, you shall only know me as Aiedail. I do not agree with the honorific system they have since introduced. Makes things take far too long, like this accursed war. But, even in these circumstances, I believe that you all deserve something to eat, a bath and a simple good night's sleep."

_Aiedail! _"I feel that everything is somehow spun into a web and I keep tangling myself in it, upsetting too many spiders."

She smiled, "Ah, but there is only one spider in this web, and it's up to us all to fight back, flies as we are, to retrieve our freedom, together."

She took my arm, and led me gently into one of the great oaks nearby, shaped like a little cottage, only far more grand yet homely than that. The smell of polished wood and fresh flowers greeted me as I entered a room furnished simply with wooden furniture; two chairs, a desk covered in books and scrolls and bore a tray of food, a large chest and two beds, and a room that led off it, which I guessed to be a bathroom.

Before I could take use of these welcome facilities, however, I saw a remarkably detailed picture sitting upon the desk, scrolls deliberately kept off it, highlighting its value as an object. I walked over to see it, and I was startled to see a picture of a green dragon. It didn't look like Emereldo; indeed, this dragon was far larger, and had a fiercer look in its glowing orb-like eyes.

"Aiedail, were you-?"

"I was, yes. I was a dragon rider, and that was my dragon, Feldór. He perished with many other dragons in the Fall, but managed to sire an egg before we were captured. He died to save me, even though it meant that he would never see his offspring grow up..." She stroked the picture gently, "This is called a fairth. I may teach you how to do one someday."

"Will you?" I asked hopefully. It comforted me that I was not completely alienated from my identity. Emereldo peeked through the door, bristling with intrigue at this.

_Do you know who my parents were? _He asked eagerly.

Aiedail observed him wryly, "Aye, I do. Your father is right here." She held up the fairth, making Emereldo blink in shock, but I thinking it only logical, "And your mother was Ambra, although I'm afraid I don't have a fairth of her, as she was a wild dragon."

I could feel Emereldo's eyes tingle and he bowed his head. _Thank you, Aiedail._

She touched her lips with her fingers, "Atra du evarinya ono varda." May the stars watch over you. Sweet words.

It wasn't until the next day that I truly recognised how much he needed those words, as did I, close within our hearts, when we entered the lungs of Du Weldenvarden, of how they breathed in more, than they breathed out, and of how you could never see its secrets, until you entered.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Jewel Lining**

"Come inside, Tamunora, Emereldo, and join us in our feast! It may not be the fare you are used to, but I am sure you will be able to enjoy it."

I stared at the house I was being led into. I am calling the home a 'house', because it was abstractly so, yet its deftly lashed trees entwined with sly creepers was too beautiful as a mysterious façade to be in as humble a position as a house. The whispering rustling of the leaves were a benign greeting, as if their two fingers were waving to their unseen mouths and murmuring their greetings, bidding the stars to watch over me, for peace to dwell in my heart...

We stepped past the threshold, and were greeted by at least forty faces excitedly jostling each other to greet us. I was unsurprised when they took more interest in Emereldo, as no matter how courteous a dragon he could be, it would still not be wise to ignore him, and anyway, I reflected quietly to myself, I would not have been there without him. Therefore, as they all trickled away to admire him, I saw Aiedail wave her hands in seemingly random directions, until I realised that she was laying plates of food. Interested, because of my hunger, I wandered over to her to see them.

I wasn't even slightly perturbed when I saw no meat dishes, not even egg or cheese, as I recalled my father explaining why elves refused eating meat, which was not only a cultural choice, it is a biological purpose, as if the elves ate meat, they would become aggressive and pose a great threat to other races, and therefore the only meat ever served was on the rare occasion of a dragon attending the meal. Aiedail looked over at me with a smile, and asked,

"How do you feel, Tamunora?"

This question stumped me, as I had so many emotions wrestling together in my mind, trying to be on top, that I could not place a single name to any of them. I looked at my feet, and whispered, "I don't know, Aiedail. So many unbidden questions are begging at me like eager dogs, yet I don't know which one is correct to pay attention to."

She surprised me when she winked, "Don't worry. A simple Elvin fare, sleep and beginning your training will order your thoughts into a more mature, orderly line as structure will enter your life. As the great elf Vanduin once said; what energy is exerted returns to the bearer in due course." She rang a little bell on the table, which finally encouraged the elves to leave Emereldo to enthusiastically hurry over to their respective chairs, which lead him to saunter over, rather a lot more confidently than normal, to his plate of meat on one end of the table.

_Enjoying yourself? _I teased, as I sat down next to him.

_Oh yes. Aren't you?_

_Yes, but I'm very confused by it all. Only a week ago we were killing Urgals, now we're being rabbits for the elves. The contrast makes me either want to cry with laughter, or perhaps just cry._

He shifted his tail. _I can sense what you mean, but Tamunora, I can't see why this is such a problem._

_My dear Emereldo, you are a dragon, and you have a plate of meat. I don't think you have many problems, aside from your distinct rarity, unlike the meat in front of you. At least you're not completely a wild dragon._

_Not completely, eh? I shall have to try harder to please you then, Tamunora. _He gave that curious trickling roar of laughter.

_Please don't. The elves don't go in for that kind of entertainment like humans._

_Humans? Now there's an idea; they must taste better than deer...Tamunora, I promise to be only jesting._

_Good. I think Aiedail wishes to speak to us._

Surely enough, she had sat herself down next to my right, and when she looked at us, she had noticed my empty plate. "Shyness is not a crime, but it is recommended for you to eat something, as it will be offensive to everyone else." She indicated a dish before me that appeared to be mushrooms stuffed with a vegetable paste and drizzled with an exotic type of oil I had never seen before, "I suggest the Olive Mushrooms; they are excellent, and do try some Faelnirv – it's the Elf equivalent to ale."

Wondering if the oil was 'Olive', I took one, and tried it. It was tangy and bloomed in my mouth, and when I tried the Faelnirv, I jumped up when it slid on my tongue, making me involuntarily stand up. When all the elves stared at me, I blushed, and cried, "Faelnirv is indeed a surprising drink!" and I sat hastily back down, making them all laugh fruitily and a few of them invited me into their conversation. They introduced themselves as Vanir, Monlöust and Nuria, and asked me at least a hundred questions, which I answered with more cheer as I drank more of the drink, which in return they explained many things I was confused about, and also they never paused on their worship of Emereldo, which began to irritate him after a while, but he never let it show.

When I finally bid them farewell, I distinctly gliding after Aiedail with a glowing Emereldo up a tree with a staircase that was steep but possible to climb, and flopping into a soft bed, laughing wildly for at least an hour before I went to sleep. The next morning was harsh and bright, but thankfully my head didn't ache, so I got up quickly to inspect where I was.

I appeared to be in a tree house which boasted views over the city of Ellesméra, which resembled a dish my mother liked to make when I was younger called a salad, with darker colours dodging around lighter ones, sun and moon, sky and earth, dancing together as seemingly unlikely partners, yet so logical when one saw it in the right way. When I looked around the house, I discovered what appeared to be a washroom of some sort, a study and the bedroom I had slept in, with the same simple wooden furniture Aiedail had in her study in Osilon, which in the morning light exuded colours I only thought possibly in fire. I discovered Emereldo still asleep above the house in the treetops on a particularly thick branch. He looked so much like a cat snoozing lazily, I giggled, which awoke him, and he mumbled a grumbling yawn. _Good morning, crazy human._

'_Morning. _I looked down at the doorway, and saw a tray set with bread, water, hazelnut butter and two apples. _I think you shall have to go hunting, my dear. This fare is fine for me, but not for you._

_Point taken and appreciated. I will meet you at Aiedail's house when the sun is quarter zenith. _He took off sleepily, and faded into the distance. I wasn't sure, but I thought I saw another dragon join him. Deciding that I needed to wake up properly, I wandered over to the washroom, and vaguely called upon instructions Aiedail had given me the night before, and washed my face vigorously with warm water and blossom soap. I dried it with a towel I had found beside the tap, and, feeling refreshed, ate some of the food I had found, and, wildly strapping on my sword and bow and arrows onto me, I dashed down the stairs, careful to not trip and topple down to the ground. I was in a hurry – but not that much of a hurry.

I eventually reached Aiedail's house, where the remnants of the meal the night before had disappeared, and she was waiting patiently outside the house. I greeted her first in the traditional manner, and she reciprocated, and she asked me, "Where is Emereldo?"

"He has gone hunting, as he doesn't know how to eat hazelnut butter and bread."

She frowned, "I hope he doesn't spill into the river; that's where your wash water comes from."

My eyes widened, "I thought it came through enchantments, and these purified the water."

"Yes, but the animals need a clean drink and can't wield magic."

"Oh...I am sorry for my mistake."

"Make them here, and not on the battlefield, so they may be corrected and a lesson can be learnt. Always respect nature, so it will, in turn respects you. Such a relationship stands in our cities, Tamunora, and I hope it will live as long as this world, for it will be a very empty, desolate place without it."

Before I could ask her to elaborate, I heard flapping above. Finally, Emereldo was here! Yet when I looked up, I was astonished to see that he was accompanied by two dragons. One I had expected; Saphira, her scales as resplendent as her nature, who landed softly beside Emereldo with an excited, stiff expression, but the other was something quite unexpected. He was the size of both Saphira and Emereldo combined; the sun before water and earth, seemingly the creators of the forest around them. This stranger dragon was clearly an elder dragon, by the proud way he held himself and, of course, his pure size. He regarded Emereldo, and snorted a sound of approval, and Emereldo seemed to relax slightly, and dared a glance at Saphira, who was still enraptured by this mysterious dragon. He bent down to look at me with a glorious golden eye, and rumbled,

_Welcome to Ellesméra, young Tamunora. I do apologise for your quiet arrival yesterday evening, but as I am sure you are aware, events move apace and you shall not be hidden away like a frightened rabbit for long._

_Well, I am enjoying the rabbit food. _I jested, and he scowled, but I could tell he found it funny.

_I do not ask you to curb your humour, as I know it to be a curious habit of humans to use it to cheer themselves up, and during your training you will need to do that...often. However, I warn you to be careful on how you express your opinion, as elves prefer to be thought of as something less edible than rabbits._

_Yes, master...? What is your name?_

_Glaedr. My rider is called Oromis, but he is occupied in tutoring Eragon at the moment, and you would be wise to keep away for now. When he is sparring later on, however, you may join him. For now, I shall take Emereldo and Saphira to elsewhere, and you remain with Aiedail. Until then, secret rider._

He took off, followed hastily by the two younger dragons. Aiedail raised an eyebrow, "Not many expect such an informal way of speaking from Glaedr. You should consider yourself honoured. Come, we have much to learn today." Cautiously, with my knees trembling slightly, I followed her into her house. She led me past the room where we had feasted, the table now smooth and clear, and up stairs weaved with fresh spring leaves, which led into a hollow of the tree, cleaned carefully and polished to a glittering sheen. A small window looked over a small garden growing many varieties of plants and trees, some of which my brother and I grew at the back of the house...

My attention was caught back when Aiedail gave me a light wicker chair to sit upon in front of a table where scrolls and ink pens lay. My stomach tensing in apprehension, I sat down, facing the elf.

She was looking out of the window, and seemed to be looking into the distant past judging by her misty expression. I fidgeted, and she looked at me,

"Patience is a golden virtue that we all must learn, including young riders with little time left to bring the age of tyranny to an end. Listen, watch, understand and _learn." _ She pronounced the last word with finality, "Therefore, firstly, I would like you to place your chair by the window, and tell me what you see."

My first lesson from Aiedail consisted of observing what I saw outside the window, and, simply, making sense of it all. I saw baby birds chirping in their nests, fighting over the food their mother gave them; I saw two deer slip behind a bush, hiding from a starving looking pack of wolves; I even saw how a squirrel leapt from branch to branch.

"Good. Now try and reach your consciousness out to them, as you do with Emereldo." I was startled by this, but I managed to brace myself to cautious dip my hand into the pool of thought, and was surprised to find cool, clear thoughts swirl into my mind, enticing me into the forest; little rushing thoughts of competition, pleasure and ease, so tiny yet so busy in their hurry through life. I was truly astonished by what I felt.

I was keen to remain there all day, but Aiedail insisted that I was required down at the training fields. Reluctantly, I pulled myself away, and followed her to a clearing in the trees, where various elves, with incredible dexterity, bobbed and dodged around each other, landing soft tinks on each other's armour. I looked round in interest, and almost stumbled when I recognised the brown hair and hawk like eyes which could only belong to Eragon.

He was lying on his back, wincing at the pain it was obviously causing him, and an elf was standing over him, obviously taunting him. I was shocked, not because of who he was, but how he could be polite to me, and treat Eragon like a rabid dog.

Before Aiedail could stop me, I hurried over, and Vanir, upon seeing me, touched his lips, and after bidding farewell to Eragon, intercepted me.

"How do you, Tamunora? Do you wish to have a practise, as Eragon has just finished...?"

"Finished off, I think. What on earth do you think you were doing? Saphira could have hatched to you, and would you have liked to have received a scar up your back, and once death has been escaped once, it shall be risked again. If this attitude continues before his wound can be healed, you shall have to consider whether you can be anywhere safely when I am around." My voice was as polite as his, as well as quiet as the wind that tousled our hair. Eragon was still on his back, a tortoise trapped by the heavy shell he carried upon his back.

Vanir's lips pursed, "He is weak, Tamunora, and when one side of the coin is weak, it should be strengthened, and that is what I am doing."

"Or at least what you believe you are doing. I can't see how you are managing to say that in the Ancient Language...Vanir, prepare your sword, I would like to set things into their correct order."

He smirked a cocky smile, "A human, beat an elf? Ha ha!" He stood back into an easy comfortable position, which I mirrored. Without warning, he leapt forwards like a lightning bolt, but I managed to flick to the side, and twist around, clashing my sword hard against his as he struggled upwards when sprawling to the ground. I managed to keep up with his speed, and fended off all the blows he attempted to land upon me. I quickly managed to discover his weakness; he tried to be too fast, and, working to this disadvantage, I jumped back suddenly, ducked underneath his sword, and, using the flat of my blunted, well appreciated sword, shoved him back onto his back, making him spin over his head in the process.

When he showed no signs of arising, I asked for the traditional yield, and he granted it, so I sheathed my sword, thanked him with dignity, and wandered over to Eragon, who was beginning to get up stiffly. I knelt down beside him, and whispered, "Boo."

His shoulders jumped violently, making him gasp at the pain in his back, "Tamunora!" He cried, then glanced around, and saw Vanir levering himself up with all the dignity he could possibly gather, and sauntering off, out of the practise field. "You fought him?" A crooked smile spread on his face, and I couldn't help but smile back.

"I wanted to teach him a lesson, that humans are not weak; they are just different to elves."

He looked embarrassed, "Ah. Thank you." His demeanour was so awkward, I decided not to push the subject, and instead asked,

"How do you like Ellesméra?"

He hesitated, and muttered, "It's amazing."

I grinned, "Try saying that in the Ancient Language if you want me to believe you."

He gave a sheepish snigger, then said in the old tongue, "It's...the most beautiful city I have ever seen, and I feel I could...eventually live here." I could tell that his pauses weren't a mark of an amateur speaker; the magic was affecting him. I raised my eyebrows, and he sighed, "Fine, I will tell the truth now; If it were not for Saphira; if it were not for my duty as a Rider, I would have run away, not caring where I would end up, apart from maybe returning to Carvahall."

_Carvahall?! _"Is that where you were brought up?" He nodded, looking interestedly at me, making my skin tingle.

"Have you heard of it?" He asked.

I looked down at my feet, "Well yes...I passed it on the way from Farthen Dûr." I decided to refrain from telling him what I had heard about it. To cover my expression, I reached out a hand to help him up. We rose up together, and without a spoken consent, we left the field together.

"Are you attending the Blödhren Agaetí?" He suddenly asked, as we weaved in and out of elves dashing past us, laughing in little groups, unconsciously walking towards the outskirts of the city.

"What is that?" I asked, puzzled, "A blood oath celebration? Sounds a little gory even for elves..."

He laughed, "I hope it shan't be gory, but it is a celebration put on every one hundred years in the city to honour the pact with the Riders. Saphira and I have to be there, for obvious reasons, but you don't have to...yet it would be nice to see you there."

I stifled the hope that swelled my chest, "Yes, I think I shall come to that; I mean, I shall probably never see it happen again, will I?"

He laughed again, and winced when his back twinged. "The curses of immortality and mortality. I get to see the same things too many times, whilst you don't get to see them enough."

I smiled, "A good analogy as any, I think."

We continued talking in this manner until midday stroke, and we reluctantly split, he to return to Oromis, I to secretly receive similar Rider tuition, delving into the chests of knowledge that I had merely half seen through my father. In this manner we acted for a week, talking about everything that was nonsense and nothing entirely sensible. Judging by how Emereldo hummed to himself each night, such a similar event was happening with Saphira.

When I saw bunting and flowers being hung around the city, excitement crackled merrily inside me, a blazing fire against the flow of the rain. I was about to witness what had not been witnessed for a hundred years. And when Aiedail advised me to create something of value for the celebration, I enthusiastically threw myself into it, caught by the fever before it had even arrived. Of all things I enjoy, I believe the written word is what I enjoy the most, twinned with singing them. It embarrasses me to read what I wrote, for it was not impressive, but at the time, I was proud of it.

However, before I was asked to sing the song, I was caught in the fever of the eve of the celebration, when thousands of us gathered below the veiling protection of the Menoa Tree, wearing friendly shackles that made me almost as foolish as a drunkard. I remember spinning around, laughing, with Emereldo lazily watching me with heightened amusement, when I fell backwards into Eragon's arms. Blushing vociferously, I twisted around, but he caught my hands, and, giggling, we pranced like a joyful stag and doe around the tree, encouraged by the elves. It was then he leaned forwards to my face, and kissed me, with complete impunity. I did not resist (why would I?) but there was definitely surprise, and the elves cheered at this. When Eragon realised this, he hastily pulled away, stumbling backwards, causing him to fall because of his back paining him.

Terrified, I picked him up gently, and carried him to Saphira, who wasn't sure whether to flame me or to be worried about Eragon. A silver haired elf who I assumed to be Oromis waved me away respectfully, insisting that he would attend to his student. When I saw Emereldo hiding himself from Eragon's eye line, I remembered just how unattainable was what I wanted, and I stepped back, and suddenly felt compulsed to sing how I felt.

_Away, away, you shall fly away_

_O'er the peaks and vales_

_To the lands beyond._

_Away, away you shall fly away,_

_And never return to me..._

I sang another verse, but my eyes were flooding so fast I'm not sure how I did so. Music was still driving around me, fast beats of the drum and wail of the harps in line with how my heart felt. With a look at Emereldo, I knew it was time to leave, and so we did.

The celebration lasted another three days, which I observed in loud vigil, allowing thoughts to come in, but shooing them quickly out again. I duly performed my piece for the celebration, and watched others being shown, but my senses were elsewhere, somewhere that the rest of me could not hope to reach, could not wish to even see. My anchor had been pulled, and there was only one way to bring it back, and I knew no way of retrieving it.

It was not until the final night that I suddenly was aroused from my sunken dream, in the presence of two elves, naked to the clothes they were born in, who carried my salvation, the way in which I could find a way around the situation. As they danced round and round, faster and faster, the whirlpool they created breathed life into their dragon tattoo, and Eragon and I were pulled together inextricably into a bottomless void.

To be putting it all simply, when I awoke, my face was no longer my face. When I saw my reflection in the water, I fell upon my bottom. A scar I received on my arm from an Urgal had gone, my eyes had slanted, and my face had been even more carved than it already was. I felt marked, but I felt pure. I dared not show myself to Eragon, however, as it would simply prove who I was.

I was now truly a Rider, completely imbued by magic.


	17. Chapter 17

**Second to Last Stitch**

It was the first time in six months that I had truly seen my appearance.

It was all a perfectly innocent, normal morning, which consisted of me of waking up with the sun, yawning widely, Emereldo still snoozing gently on the other side of the room, glad to greet the new day from the numbing embrace of sleep. I wandered into the bathroom, and began to run myself a bath, stripping as I did so. I washed myself all over, my hair first, feet last, and for a few minutes, I allowed myself to sit still in the warm soap crowded water, which reminded me of rides upon Emereldo's warm back, sifting amongst swirling clouds of such soap bubbles. The comparison made me laugh when I thought of how rushed I was on his back, and how relaxed I felt then.

It was when I saw my face. The mirror upon the wall; I barely ever looked into it, merely to check I was not too muddy nor too tired, nor have any terrible injuries that I had not noticed. I fell backwards into the water in surprise, causing a muffled but rumbling splash as I did so. Slowly, I composed myself, and lifted up to look at myself again.

I had once watched, when my father had performed his many experiments, how he used a knife to slice a catalyst into a certain shape, hollowing more and more of it away, and such the catalyst was my face. My presence sped up readily the event of a war in Alagaësia, and so my face had to emulate this fact. The hollow shape frightened me, as it made me think of ghosts, whispers of the screams of what their lives were, or perhaps even skeletal trees, which reminded me of how those trees had looked back on that early morning only six moons before...

It was not only this that surprised me. My eyes had shifted to elegant slants, not dissimilar to how Arya or Aiedail's did, and my general physique had become more stream-lined, more balanced. I couldn't help but notice also that my breast had shrunk a little, which I wasn't sure to be amused or horrified by.

_It was those elves with the tattoo, who transformed me. _This realisation began to dawn upon me as orange light sauntered through the gaps around the door. _They did this, because I would require Elvin strength to defeat the King! But that will mean...Eragon will have changed also...and I cannot see him ever again now, for my appearance change will be far too suspicious...What a situation! _I felt my head droop without my realising it, and I could see the bubbles were fading...

_Tamunora? Why are you so despondent...? Ah, I see... _Emereldo had awoken, and shifted the door open with his talon, a magnificent green orb glowing on the other side, a hope behind a previously closed exit, giving me strength. _Tamunora, why are you blinded by your anguish? Can you not see that this bond binds you together now, and it would be foolish of everyone to keep us secret for much longer, when Eragon and you must work together...the world out there is rallying itself for a war; the Earth trembles, the desert is whipped, the mountains roar...I can feel it, and so can you. I believe that we should reveal ourselves to him._

My heart stumbled, contrasting with itself so violently I was astonished that it managed to pick itself up with dignity. _Emereldo, have you been addled by the magic, as I have? I can't reveal myself yet; he will not recognise me, to begin with, and he will believe that I am a spy from the King, no matter how hard I try to explain, even in the Ancient Language; that I forged a friendship with him so I could plot his demise._

_Yes. _He was beginning to sound impatient. _But why would my ancestors alter someone they know that they would use the powers for ill?_

_Emereldo, dragons were, and still are, the most intelligent and strongest creatures in all Alagaësia, but they still are able to make mistakes. The dragons that chose Galbatorix and Morzan are examples of those who did. I am not completely blind because of my feelings; Eragon makes assumptions very quickly, as I know that he does on Urgals!_

_So you have resigned yourself to a path of unhappiness and uncertainty? And I am expected to live with it? _He bared his teeth. _When I was in that egg, I chose you for your spirit, your empathy, intelligence, even. I want to be shown that I was right in seeing what I saw, and that you truly will sacrifice everything to bring justice back to these lands! _I wasn't aware until then that dragons could cry, but those green orbs were beginning to shimmer softly.

_Emereldo, I cry for your pardon. I did not mean to speak like this; it's just a part of me that cannot accept that I can be..._

As such things happen; there was a knock at the door. I grabbled for my towel, and wrapped myself in it tightly, before proceeding to open the door, silently hoping for Eragon, despite my state of undress, which characterised our first meeting. However, it was not, and I felt an odd sense of relief, as I saw it was Aiedail, puffing from obviously having to run up the steps, who seemed unperturbed by my appearance.

"Tamunora." She touched her lips with her two fingers, "I recommend that you dress now, as we have much to discuss."

I hesitated, and nodded, "Yes, Aiedail-ebrithil."

Half an hour later, I hurried after Aiedail, who was striding ahead of me, strapping my beaten sword onto my belt as I went. I was startled to discover how much faster and stronger I had become; my sword was a feather in my hand, as opposed to a stone as it was before, and a normal human sprint was no more exhausting than a gentle walk. We took a path to a part of the city where I had not ventured before, towards houses that were more intricately formed; the branches weaved into precise, careful patterns, flowers that bloomed in a great and bursting number...

A clearing greeted us, with a small hut surrounded by the expanse and beauty of space. I saw a golden, green and blue dragon loop around it, and take off over towards the west. I felt myself slowly freeze over when I saw Eragon standing by the hut, who seemed to have clearly seen the green dragon. It took all Aiedail's coxing to make me approach him, and by the time I did, I was a small statue in front of him, only to come alive when he gave the right word. I stared straight in those hazel eyes, noting similar appearance changes to my own and feeling no change to my feelings at all.

He looked confused at my presence, and asked, "Who are you, young elf?" I held my breath, and looked away awkwardly. I realised quickly that where I stood meant that Emereldo's shape was impossible to see, and I felt my shoulders relax. However, I stung directly on the heart, as if someone had shot me stealthily with an arrow there, when he asked such a simple question.

"I...I..." I stammered, then I turned around, giving Aiedail a pleading look, which she was similarly still, "I must go!" I blurted out, and ran.

It was over the course of the next two weeks that a curious pattern developed within my normal days. If I should see Eragon, I would move towards him to look at him, but run away when he noticed me, such was my awkwardness of my appearance. I feverently wished that matters could be different, that I could boldly step out in front of him, and cry out all the truths bluntly yet so sharply in the Ancient, notorious, Language. Yet reality holds no loyal candle to the truth, to what should be good and just.

When these two weeks of my face-shaming had passed, I saw Eragon quickly packing to leave. Wondering where he was a-going, I asked Aiedail, and discovered that my feeling of impending war was correct. I could not help but question why I was not warned earlier, as was Eragon. Surely we were ready to depart now?

Aiedail beamed with a humourless sheen, who was obviously still furious with me with my indecorous meeting with the Rider, "You still have much to learn, in the smallest of time. I think it best for Emereldo and you to leave soon also, but depart tomorrow, as it would not do for Saphira and Eragon to see you, even though t'would make more sense."

It was during my rushed preparations that I pondered if I could have Tamerlein. Yet when I broached the subject with Aiedail, she shook her head, and told me that where I needed to be would require no sword; words would win the fight I had ahead of me.

"Aiedail-ebrithil, what in the name of nature would that be? I cannot fight Galbatorix with magic alone..."

"Ah, but you and Eragon have yet to face him. No, this fight is much different to that. You will see." And she would not pursue the subject.

I saw the gleaming, graceful curve of blue pass over my head as I strapped the last pack onto Emereldo's saddle, and I instinctively turned around to watch them leave. The sight of their majestic flight made me feel strangely melancholy, and I felt those words from before well up again inside me, trickling off my tongue as singing teardrops through the air, those very same words that I had sung those two weeks ago...

When I had finished, and they were a mere flickering shadow in the golden distance, I buried my face into the saddle, and tried to stiffen myself with slow breaths and prudent thoughts. Yet I did not truly become sober until I felt a hand upon my shoulder, and I was surprised to see that it was not Aiedail; rather, it was the elf who I knew to be Eragon's teacher, Oromis-elda.

"Oromis-elda!" I stammered, touching my lips in greeting, "Please pardon me for acting so indecorously..."

"You do not need to apologise. The situation is perfectly understandable, as I can see it. Aiedail is occupied with urgent business, so it befell to me to bring your instructions." He placed his hand over the other at his waist, in a curious imitation of a girdle. "You must fly to Ûru'baen, and Emereldo and you must find a way to enter the palace and extract the Urgals out of there." My eyes widened, and I began to stammer, but he held up his hand calmly, "The plan does appear rash, but Nasuada requires their assistance in battle. Some of Galbatorix's Urgal troops are already on their way, but you must lead out the rest of them from the city. I know of your abilities, and I am aware that you know their language and much about their culture, and that you both can hold your own against many at a time."

I could not help but raise an eyebrow, "Why do you not do it yourself, Oromis-Elda, or perhaps even Saphira and Eragon? I do not think it would be prudent for the King to know of his stolen egg in such a manner, which is when it walks out the door with his best soldiers."

Oromis gave me a hard look, "And do you not think the same would not happen to us? Let us be honest, young Tamunora; you have the advantage of surprise on your side, whilst Eragon does not. Also, Glaedr and I cannot face the black rider – as you must be aware, we are cripples."

I cringed at these mistakes, and bent my head, ashamed, "I am most sorry, Oromis-elda; I spoke the tainted truth."

He smiled slightly, "Before you leave, I suggest that you allow space for another person." He stepped aside, revealing a dwarf, who winked at me.

"Kuthian!" I exclaimed, forgetting that Oromis had assumed that I had agreed to go on this venture.

With his Ancient Language flawless, he murmured, "I am here when I am needed, Tamunora-svit-kona."

I was confused, "I am not an elf, Kuthian."

"Yet you appear to have become one." His eyes were smouldering in amusement, and I laughed.

"I allow you that fact, Kuthian-finiarel." Emereldo touched him gently with his snout, and crouched down so the dwarf could climb on. I took his small pack and tied it upon the very full saddle.

"Farewell, Oromis-elda. May the stars watch over you." I glanced to the horizon with my heart aglow, "And may we meet again in a truly peaceful situation."

He inclined his head, "It will if peace may live in your heart."

"Aye, it will. I will make sure of it." Emereldo, bored, took off without warning, and I gave a hasty wave, as did Kuthian, and we raced over the miles and miles of endless forest, leaving the lone elf alone in the expanse of it all.

Two days later, under the sultry cloak of evening, I saw a glittering, shambolic mess of a city blink in the distance. After consulting the map, I could only conclude that it had to be Ûru'baen, the home of everything the empire had to fall on its knees for, whether voluntarily, or not. I felt a twitching of fear upon beholding it, like the star glaring at us, solitary in the sky above, resenting its own presence and our own.

Luckily, we would not enter the city that night, as Emereldo pointedly flopped down on the ground where he stood, thankfully taking care that he did not squash Kuthian on his way down. Kuthian quickly began to pile wood he found strewn nearby, and I lit it with magic, creating a fire, and watched Kuthian cook rabbit, feeling as if I were missing out on nothing at all as I calmly ate my bread and cheese.

We spent much of the night talking, swapping stories of our adventures amongst the elves, making him laugh when I told him how I beat Vanir when seeing how he treated Eragon, and wince when I explained my predicament. I myself heard of how the elves were unsure what to make of him at first, but eventually taught his how to use a sword, albeit a smaller version, and their own language along with the human language.

Delighted, I then conversed with him in my own language, as the only person I ever spoke to in it was Emereldo. Even with Eragon I spoke in the Ancient Language. I continually corrected his accent, however, which annoyed him.

All the while, as we slowly fell asleep, the bright starlight spread around us, sifting through us, deciding using the scales of fate whether we should survive this predicament, the forces that controlled it weighed by the weight of history upon it.

We formed a quick plan. Emereldo flew to the Ranr River, ready to come when called, and submerged himself in the depths, snapping up fish when he became hungry, whilst Kuthian and I slipped in from a lazy wave from the guards, who seemed bored and underpaid. To amuse myself, I muttered a spell, and watched how ladies suddenly became very interested in him, and we laughed when I saw him run in terror.

It was not at all difficult to find the palace, as such things go, and the grand white structure stood out amongst the wooden, ramshackled buildings in the streets surrounding it, and I quickly implemented the plan. I transformed my dress to be one of a lady's, and Kuthian was forced to masquerade as my 'son', which gave him a seemingly permanent sulky expression, which only increased the validity of the disguise. No one looked twice at us.

I took no notice of the grand, high ceilings, dating back centuries, nor did I take any notice of the many murals altered in the King's grander light. Instead I wandered around, in the hope of discovering any Urgals patrolling the palace, of which, unsurprisingly, I found none. However, I did find the entrance to the dungeons. Taking a deep breath, I allowed memories of my father's capture to finally come back to me, and to hope that he could be down here.

_Tap, tap, tap. _The stone steps were as cold and tinny as icy metal, chinking against our boots, coupled together into a bizarre dance to my rushing breath, coming in little puffs of swirling mist in front of me as I left the warm halls behind and plunged into the scalding cold of the dungeons. No sunlight had fallen here for at least a thousand years; the evidence of lichen and a garrotting, gagging smell was enough to prove it. Nevertheless, we continued down the steps, and when we finally reached the cells, we discovered that no one was there.

Or, at least, there were no guards. I could sense that there were people in the cells, but the air was screamingly silent, making me want to cover my ears to it, for reasons I didn't know let alone explain. It took a great deal of effort to step along the cells, trying to desperately find a familiar face, or even not desperately, for it would chill my blood to see them in such a place.

Alas, or perhaps fortunately, I saw a face I knew. In fact, I saw three, and it tore me apart to see them. As well as my father, listlessly leaning against the wall, his twitching hands the only sign of life upon him, I saw my mother and my brother, staring at me in an almost defiant manner. I had to remind myself that I looked different now.

"Father? Mother? Brother?" I asked, cautiously.

It was almost as if a spell had been ripped from them. My mother fell backwards onto her hands, my brother raised his eyebrows and my father jumped up in surprise.

"Tamunora!" He was clearly astonished, but also impressed, and perhaps a little afraid, "What in Alagaësia's name are you doing here? And you look so grown up, my girl, and where did you get that dress?"

"I am here to release you, and then possibly save the Varden from falling on its knees. You get what you pay for." I took a step backwards to survey them, "Right, please take a step back as I will have to blow the gate down." They all obeyed, and the gate came down with a startling crash, making them all cover their heads in fright. When they were certain that they would not die, they stepped over the gate, and stood next to me. I could not help but notice that I was now taller than my father, but my brother had grown in the same manner as a sun starved plant; far too quickly upwards in the hope of finding light.

"Is there anyone else?" I whispered, feeling obliged to do so after making such a horrendous noise.

"No." Came my mother's hoarse voice, "We are the only ones still alive, my dear."

Nauseated, I stared through into the cells, and saw rotting bodies on the floor. I made a mental note of kicking the King between the legs before killing him when the time came.

It was not hard to slip my family out of the dungeon, but it was another matter entirely to get them out of the palace, and they were also forced to disguise ourselves as courtiers, my rugged father looking ironic in his starlight suit after seeing him in blood stained rags. I asked them why they had not used magic before, and my mother explained that the cells held a prohibiting enchantment to using magic of any kind, administered by the King himself. _That shall be two low-hand kicks now, your Majesty. _ I thought angrily.

"Where are the Urgals?" I whispered, trying to control my emotions, as we slipped out of sight into an archway along the corridor. I pulled my bow from my back, readying myself for any people challenging us.

My brother frowned, "I don't think Urgals will help us, little sister. They've all made an oath to the King, or at least their tribe leaders have, which is loyalty enough."

"Quiet, son; I believe that she has a plan." Father looked at me intently, "You do, don't you? What do you want us to do?"

I regaled what Oromis told me, and my mother chuckled in a rasping manner, "Child's play for a family of magicians, especially when one is a Dragon Rider! I will have some water, and find their quarters in three shakes of their horns."

"Don't literally do that last, mother; they're their pride and joy!" I called after her as she took my water-skin and wandered off into the thin crowd of people at the end of the corridor. We crouched in the alcove, unseen.

She conversed with the people there, who were mainly servants, and they laughed at her charm, but I could see that magic was working on them, forcing the truth out of them. No months in cells could hold back my mother's talent it seemed.

As soon as she could, she slipped away, and joined us, "It is in a most convenient place; it's just at the end of this corridor, beside the one for the dungeon." She looked thoughtful, "Perhaps those wailing weren't former prisoners' ghosts; they were Urgals fighting to be tribe leader..."

"Yes mother, probably, but we must get there without any further ado. Lead the way!"

She nodded, her jaw tight, and marched along the corridor, us following doggedly behind. The door that she referred to us was wooden and highly polished with care, but it was not appreciated, as there were scratches and chaffing across its sheered surface, probably done by a drunken Urgal during the night. Instead of bother to knock, we barged the door open with a crash with our combined magic, and ran in, to be greeted by indignant Urgals who were sitting around tables, playing games of cards and drinking strong ale. They did not, however, stand up and draw any weapons, but they wanted to; I could see.

A particularly tall, strong Urgal, who I recognised as a Kull, did stand up, and eyed us with a fierce eye. Urgals are not known for their beauty, but they are known for their charisma and power in battle, and I instantly knew that this Urgal was their leader, judging by his various scars and proud horns.

Quickly, I called upon my Urgal vocabulary, and said, "We come in friendship! We would like to appeal to your fighting prowess in helping the collapse of the King! We know that humans, elves and dwarves have never shown respect to the Urgal race, but I am prepared to, as I require your services."

There were grumbles of surprise at my words; haltingly pronounced they were, they were spoken by a stranger, and hopefully, her footsteps were honest to them. Even the leader looked a little impressed, "We are a proud race; we do not come at the beck and call of other species. However, you have good reasoning. We do not support the King; we're merely in it for a good fight! And I personally can reason that if you have bothered to learn our language, then you must be true of heart, little cub."

I was confused by what they said, so luckily my father stepped in, with his far more fluent language, "If I may interject, Nar, I would like to offer a proposition. If you do not enjoy being here, which I believe you do not, then we can get you out of here, enjoying a good fight in doing so, and lead you to the Varden, who are struggling to hold back the Empire's troops. And, furthermore, "He smiled pleasantly, "Unless I am a mistaken, foolish, human, Nasuada wishes to grant land to all the Urgal soldiers under her command."

I raised my eyebrow, an amused realisation dawning upon me, "Father, you work for the Varden, do you not?"

He waved his hand at me, "Later, Tamunora, later..."

The Kull stared at me, "Tamunora?" Then he lifted up his head, a gesture of friendship, "I have heard your name being carried here. You and your dragon have managed to hold back many of our comrades and defeated many in battle. They have given you names such as Jagged Sword or Horn Flamer, and secretly fear you. However, upon meeting you in person, you seem to not wish to harm us, despite it being us that captured your family and locked them up."

"You did, but not under your personal will." I corrected them.

He folded his muscular arms, and looked around at the other Urgals, bellowing, "Well, what are you sitting there for, you callowing cubs? Get your armour, weapons, now!"

I looked around at my father, with a smile. He shook his head, "They all grow up too fast." He muttered, when my brother slapped me on the back in approval.

I suppose the sight of Urgals marching in a headstrong manner, as brazen as the silvery murals, was meant to cause a disturbance, and soon soldiers skidded into the main hall. My mother, father and brother shot many down with various spells, muttering words I didn't know that they knew, and I protected them with my arrows, then when they ran out, my fists. Kuthian, easily the smallest there, took his axe and set to work on the men's man hoods, which gave me a savage blast of amusement.

Eventually, we broke past the men, and made a break for the exit. We dashed through the streets, soldiers limping fast after us, and when we saw that the gates were closed, we began to climb up the walls, my family and I shooting spells up at the guards shooting at us. We shimmied down the other side, and as fast as we could, ran away from the city. In the distance, I saw Emereldo burst with an almighty crash out of the river, and he swooped over our heads, causing the Urgals to roar in appreciation and shock, and my brother to whoop loudly.

_It's good to do good. _He commented, when he swept up the still pursuing soldiers with his tail. _Can I make it sublime by eating them? Fish is rather disgusting..._

_No. Humans taste like fish when they're as sweaty as that._

_You have a point. I suppose I can't eat food that I have played with._

_You just be glad I'm not entirely human anymore._

_And you just be glad that I'm not a wild dragon._

I rolled my eyes, giggling, and sped ahead of the group, sending flower seed scattering in the field we sprinted across. _Make sure that they don't know that, then._

_Agreed. I shouldn't make my existence obvious._

_Ahem. Quite._

"Tamunora!" My brother grabbed my shoulder, panting, "May we stop now? I believe where we are should be safe enough." We were about a mile from the river, and the nearest village was six miles away.

I slowed to a stop, "Of course we can brother." I looked around at the Urgals, "My brother believes that we should stop." The Kull nodded, and halted his men, who all crowded behind him, watching us with widened eyes. My father sat my mother down tenderly upon the ground, who, despite her tiredness, looking determined.

We all sat down together, in a smooth movement. The Kull watched me for a few minutes, and rumbled, "I have reason to believe that we should make a request of you, young Tamunora, to embellish the balance."

"What would that be?"

He motioned to two other Urgals, who nodded solemnly, and stood. I tensed, preparing for any impact, but they seemed relaxed, still even.

"We would like to accept you in our clan, Tamunora. Eragon has already given fealty to the dwarves, and we would like hold upon you, the last of the two true hearted Riders left in all Alagaësia."

_Suits me. _Emereldo suddenly swooped down beside me lazily, yawning. _They come across as more honourable than some we have met. Think of the strength of this alliance!_

_I have already made up my mind, Emereldo. _I teased, and looked back at the Kull,

"I accept." I replied simply, knowing that I was entering a world I wasn't sure of, didn't completely agree with, nor understand.

_The same can be said for everyone. _Emereldo commented dryly, as the Urgals roared in approval at my words, and I couldn't help but laugh.


	18. Chapter 18

**Take Me There**

The next morning stretched itself over us as we awoke slowly. The Urgals had left the night before for the Varden, taking broad strides into the night, their armour gleaming as bright as the stars above, rivalling them in valour and wisdom. The field we lay in was clearly fallow, as there were no crops, nor any grazing animals, as we saw in the distance that the nearby village was awake and tending to their farms, forges and families, three things that encompassed a normal person's life, which doesn't include the odd tankard. I couldn't help but watch them in fascination, as I compared my position to theirs; I, a Dragon Rider, friends with people in high places, and, broadly speaking, an Urgal, whilst they, simple peasants with only fields and crops to their names. I didn't find myself too surprised to feel slightly envious at their seemingly normal outlook.

_The rain always looks harder on your side of the field. _I grumbled to Emereldo, who was still stretched out lazily by the side of the field. He gave me a keen expression.

_I agree, but is it harder? That's a question your frantic race needs to find an answer to._

_We're not as frantic as mice._

_Yes, but mice get eaten by anything too lazy to hunt anything else. And why are you comparing your race to the common mouse? _He continued to drill into my with those green orbs, emitting a magic of its own. _Are you not one anymore?_

_Yes. No. I'm not sure...well; I suppose a human wouldn't compare themselves to a mouse, so _I_ must be an Urgal._

Emereldo sniggered. _It is true that some of those Urgals last night was disapproving of Nar Garzhvog allowing you into their tribe. Expect trouble when we return to the Varden._

_If we make it there alive. I think the King may have noticed that we stole his most precious soldiers and prospective magicians once he got answers about the Varden._

_Ha ha. _

"Tamunora," It was my brother, skinny and wide eyed in the full light, his clothes rags again, "Our parents want to talk to us." He looked up at Emereldo with a brave smile, "And you too, Bjartskular."

Emereldo winked at him. _Coming, Tamunora's nest mate._

We followed my brother over to my parents, who were sitting beside the remains of the campfire, about thirty feet from where I had slept alongside the Urgals the previous night. My father, usually so energised and intelligent in appearance, was now half so of this, his dark hair lank, eyes so wide but so dim. My mother was supporting him, and was in a little better condition.

When they saw me, however, strength flowed into them, akin to the land brightening with the sun behind me, and they managed to smile. I smiled back, and, drawing within myself, gave them and my brother some of my energy, Emereldo adding his strength also. They relaxed, and sat up straighter, their cheeks flushing.

"Thank you, Nora, Emereldo." My father cleared his throat, "But you must conserve your energy, as you have much to do, all three of you."

I raised my eyebrows, "What, I have to take _him _with us? Father, he will be cut to shreds!"

"Nora, he's a magician; very little is out of his grasp. And if he's your brother, he's not really a simpleton."

I looked at my brother wryly, "There is a little more out of his grasp, and that's regular meals. I will hunt for us afterwards."

My father nodded. Emereldo leaned towards me. _What are your nest mates' names?_

_Oh, give me a pardon! My brother is Jeod, and my parents are Anna and Jasper._

_Thank you._

"So, what is it that you wished to tell us?" I asked kneeling on the floor beside my father, my brother beside my mother, Emereldo curling around the other side of the smouldered campfire.

My mother looked at Emereldo, and then beyond his shape into the distance, "Have you met Eragon, my daughter?"

My stomach gave an involuntary jerk, and I gripped the ground in an effort to look calm, "Yes."

She nodded, "Then we can tell you that it is not surprise, that an ordinary farm boy from Carvahall was the son of a rider and one of the King's most faithful servants."

_Well, this is news. _Observed Emereldo dryly.

"Indeed it is, Emereldo." She raised her eyebrows at me, as I was having silent palpitations at this revelation, "Tamunora, there is no need to look so shocked, my dear. The rider was called Brom, and also rode a dragon called Saphira. He was also one of your father's friends, and the reason why you are a Rider, Nora."

"Sorry mother, but how in the name of everything that still has blood in its veins did this happen, and, after you have explained that, how it actually has anything to do with my situation?"

My brother thumped me, "You might be a high and mighty Rider, little sister, but you're no less dim. Do you not remember learning about Brom when we were younger?"

"I was ill." I replied stoutly, "All I know was that he killed Morzan."

My brother snorted, "That's only part of it. He was also the first leader of the Varden, as he created it, killed many of the Forsworn – you know who they are? Good. He was just generally a thorn in the King's backside, stinging him every time he sat down to read his reports." He snickered at his joke.

My mother gave him a disapproving look, but didn't comment, "Brom made a promise with your father that one of their children, should they ever have any, would take one of the eggs each to hatch for them, so there were two ready-made allies. Brom managed to rescue the blue egg with his friend Jeod, who your brother is named after, whilst your father managed to take the green egg out, but he was forced to take it around other cities for twenty years.

"That was, until he heard about Eragon and Saphira. When he saw that his friend managed to make his son a Rider, your father guessed that he could do the same for you. Of course, as you have discovered, it was a grave mistake, and the reason why the Varden and the Elves were secretive about you, and why no one came to save us; it was because your father, in effect, stole the egg from the Varden, despite saving it himself. That's why Eragon cannot befriend you as a Rider, and it's why you have had less opportunities than him." She fell silent, and look at the ground. I looked at my father, who was pointedly looking away, but his eyes were shining.

"I just wanted...I watched you grow up, Nora, and I realised that a conventional life was not the life you deserved; I thought that you should have one of adventure, of freedom-fighting, of wisdom earning...all it did was place us all into imprisonment." He resisted his tears with a trembling lower lip, but a stiff upper one.

I felt no fury at all; rather, I felt gratitude, simple gratitude. I could see my brother's incredulity on his face, but, like mine, no anger. I spoke first, "Father, if it was imprisonment, at least we survived it. If we, as a family, were not magicians, we would have died from the treatment we have received in the past six months. I cannot see anything sinful about any of your actions; in fact, I believe they were for the best. Your imprisonments may attract sympathy from the Varden, and they will wish for your support, and then, "I smiled, "I could easily reveal myself."

Jeod looked up at me and grinned at me, the first time he had done for so long, "Little sister, I finally agree with you."

My father finally looked over at me, and he looked hopeful, "You really think we could do that?"

I nodded vigorously, "Definitely, but you and mother will have to leave without my brother and I."

Both my parents nodded back once, and my mother said, "I trust you know what you are doing now?"

My mind wandered back lazily to Murtagh, and I pondered him, a creeping hunch up my spine bending me over to a secret that I was brushing against, "I'm quite sure. We should have something to eat, however."

"Ah, yes." My mother put a hand through her red hair, thin strips of flame in the light, looking sheepish, "You go and do that, Tamunora."

_Coming? _I asked Emereldo. He amusedly sent pictures of what he ate yesterday. Horrified, I smacked him against his soft underside, making him wheeze.

_What? Would you not eat a horse if they were up for picking?_

_Yes, but not if they were of use. You stay here, and make sure that you don't eat my __**nest-mates **__as well._

_Oi, I'm not completely a wild beast, you know. _He still acted suitably shamed, however, and placed his head in his paws.

The silence that greeted me startled me. _Hold on Emereldo...you ate just them didn't you?_

He growled. _What, you think I ate little Kuthian? No, he disappeared in Ûru'baen, and I suspect not against his will._

I sighed, and folded my arms, cursing the young dwarf's curious nature. _Oh shrouded mist! What a mess..._

_Indeed. But there are more immediate matters. Off you go with that strange bendy stick of yours that shoots...pointy sticks. How amusing._

I snorted, and pranced off, out of the field and towards the river, which flowed beside the river. I found a small rabbit colony by the banks, and I shot three after having ambushed them camouflaged by magic, then I hunted for mushrooms for me to eat. I decided to respect the Elves customs, especially when my family required all the strength I could give them. I wandered into the village, and after some searching, found some coins to buy a loaf of bread. No one noticed my unusual appearance, and I walked back to camp unchallenged.

A pot was full of boiling water above a golden fire, procured by my mother, who took the rabbits, skinned them with magic, and dropped the meat into the pot, adding herbs that she had found nearby along with it. We watched it slowly cook silently, as if the moment for our separation was being marked by this serving of meat. I threw in half of the mushrooms, aware that it was all because of me, and passed around some of the bread, eating the rest of the mushrooms.

When my brother had received his fill, I lifted his thin frame onto Emereldo's saddle, and jumped after him. We bid our quiet goodbyes to our parents, and we flew off into the mid morning light.

My brother told me that the Varden were in Surda at that point, fighting the Empire. We knew that we would be too late to help, yet we travelled that way anyway, and by midnight, we were somewhere near a place called Dras-Leona, and closer we had been to home for months. We could faintly; I more clearly, see the lake and the Little Forest. We shivered with pleasure at the sight, but we didn't look at it more than once, as my brother explained that the village was burned down and the people taken as slaves to a secret location. I thought of the girls I had grown up with, of how they would be women by now, if they were still alive. A tremble made a gouging course through me, and it took all my strength to subdue it.

When we settled down for the night, Jeod and Emereldo fell asleep immediately, tired from their respective excursions, yet I was wide awake, disturbed by the images I had of my childhood friends also languishing in a cell. I couldn't help but wonder if that was where Eragon's friends were also, and I felt a winding, binging vine wrap itself around us, even though he was not here; he was probably healing his wounds after the battle. I looked over to where I guessed they were, towards the South, and felt an impulse of longing, of the willingness to run, run until I had to run as a ghost, to see him again. I resisted this, of course; I couldn't leave my still unwell brother behind, or Emereldo, who would either eat Jeod or me when discovering my absence.

It was when I saw a drop of blood in the sky, stark against the pearly, misty light of the stars. I stared at it, transfixed, and as it came closer, I made wild guesses at its nature, for my entertainment; A bird that had stumbled upon magic and made itself red, or perhaps a shade who had discovered the concept of not being evil. However, as the drop was a mere two leagues away, I realised that it was a dragon, and a bright, almost terrible red, a symbol of danger, passion and, bizarrely, luck.

I had a hunch of who was its Rider, a vague shape against the light membrane of the wings, but I refused to believe it until I sensed his mind, and I hastily shut every door, window, hole, and crack in my mind, terrified. Murtagh was coming above me, and if he thought to look down, I would have a lot to say for myself, and I didn't want to kill him. Yet.

Luckily, he seemed preoccupied, and continued past our campsite, despite the fire behind me a screaming beacon to anyone for miles around. I breathed a sigh of relief, and when I craned my neck back down, I saw something curious.

There was something glittering, between us and Dras Leona, upon a small hill protruding in a random fashion in these plains, and its nature drew me towards it. I notched an arrow on my bow, and I dashed over to it, covering the miles with effortless speed, yet tiresome caution that was my constant companion.

I passed a wide cave on the hill, which would have been a perfect place for us to stay, if we had noticed it, and I passed scrubby bushes, continuing up and up, closer and closer to this fallen star...

I stopped, panting slightly from the uphill climb, and looked at what I had seen, and I was surprised to see that it was no star; merely it resembled one, with its bright diamond material, with what appeared to be a body within it...

I fell backwards onto my bottom, striking a sharp rock but not caring when I saw the person's features; the man was an older, keener version of Eragon, which left no doubt in my mind that the man was Brom, laid to rest forever in the shining glory that he left as a legacy. Judging by what dragons could do to liven up a grave, I guessed Saphira and Eragon had built it.

I knelt beside the tomb, and noticed a small epitaph set into it, made of smooth sandstone. In rough runes, it read

_HERE LIES BROM_

_Who was a dragon rider_

_And like a father to me_

_May his name live on in glory_

I smiled when I realised that it was probably Eragon, when he was younger and less educated, who wrote it. Instead of changing it, I picked up another piece of sandstone and wrote my own epitaph.

_He deserved much more than he received; his best laid plan for his son Eragon means that freedom is within everyone's grasp. May he live beyond the glory of his name._

I wasn't sure if it was a good enough epitaph; I had not written one for Evandar. However, it was from the heart, so I guessed that he would not mind the roughness. I placed it beside Eragon's, and then I straightened up, curtseying slightly, twisting my hand over my heart in the way I knew the Elves did, and returned to the campsite in a dead run, noticing that the stars were beginning to fade. I lay beside my brother on my blankets, even less able to sleep with the plan that buzzed around my head.

When he eventually awoke, he was amused to see me awake and still alert, and sat up wobbily. I silently passed him a bowl of rabbit, left over from the rabbit from the night before, as well as some berries I had found on the hill just then in my confused daze, and watched him eat it as I ate the rest of the berries, not feeling very hungry as my plan churned through me.

For the next two weeks, we stayed there, rebuilding Jeod's strength and practising our magic together. I taught him how to ride Emereldo in battle, in case he should have to in my place, and we also practised with sticks we made heavier with magic to keep our sword skills up. Emereldo would fly high above the clouds, in a disguise of a hawk, discovering events happening in the empire, and one day, when Jeod and I had finished sparring, and were having a drink of water, he came rushing back, panting from his rush.

_The Varden! They are going to capture Feinster! And the Elves are to lay siege to Gil'ead! Where shall we go, Tamunora?_

I became still and curiously calm, "We are going to Ellesméra, Emereldo, Jeod, and we are going to ask for swords to fight for the Elves. Then we must join the Varden."

My brother looked excited, yet nervously so, "We are going, then?"

I smiled at him, "Yes, brother, we are going."

For the next three days, we flew northwards, stopping only twice and even then briefly, over the capital, past the desert, then the forest guardians, past the soft carpet of trees, and to a soft landing in the city. We landed gratefully, yawning, Emereldo trembling at the knees, keen to sleep well that night, until I saw a familiar blue shape us, coming to land. Panicking, I urgently backed Emereldo under the protection of the trees, making him mumble curses as he stumbled back, I leaning hard against his right front leg, my brother his left.

Saphira landed in the clearing before us, and had clearly noticed us, as she winked at us, but seemed to have distracted Eragon as he climbed down, preoccupied with other matters. I winked back shyly, and watched many people come to bid them farewell. When they left, we came out into the clearing, and set about finding a sword smith.

This was harder than I thought it would be, as the Elves seemed to expect me to know, as I looked like an elf, until Emereldo appeared behind me, and they suddenly became helpful, pointing me in the direction of an elf woman called Rhünon. They seemed to speak of her with amused reverence, and this made me curious.

I found her inside her forge, staring at a type of dazzlingly bright metal I had never seen before, looking confused. I knocked against the wood, wondering why her forge was built of such a flammable material, and she looked up at me, eyes hard,

"Another sword is it?" She asked, eyeing Emereldo fiercely, "I have an oath to keep, you know!"

I was surprised; I was used to elves being excessively polite, but I found I preferred her brusqueness, and I grinned, "Well, I have an oath also, and that's to give the King's backside a good hiding with something sharp."

She gave me an interested look, "Perhaps that is more important...but oaths are oaths, and I can only help you if begin making it yourself."

I raised my eyebrows, "But I can't make swords."

"Ah, but I do. If I used your body, then I would have it done faster."

"Yes, Rhünon-elda, but how about you made the sword out of magic, whilst using my strength?"

"Because that's not the traditional manner of making swords. It might end up being a mess...hold on, using your energy to make the sword, therefore meaning that you made the sword, and not I?" She laughed at the idea, "It's madness, but if you are willing, we will try it...and as for your brother, my dear, I can only give him a common elf blade."

Jeod bowed on the saddle, "It is beyond what I deserve."

Rhünon shrugged, "Depends how you look at it. Right, Tamunora, sit there and relax, so we can go through with this scheme."

I sat upon the chair, feeling strangely open, yet so comfortable. Rhünon broke off some of the metal, and I realised that Eragon must have received a new sword also.

"Ready?" She asked. I closed my eyes and nodded.

For the next ten hours, perhaps more, I felt my energy being slowly drained as I felt myself being pulled further and further down a dark, damp cave, the light being my consciousness. I could sense what the elf woman was doing, but I didn't wish to open my eyes, in case I should break concentration and ruin the whole process.

Eventually, she gently woke me up. I felt my legs, and they felt as stiff and splintered as cracked wood, but aside from that I was still alive. She grinned at me, and distinctly said that she could continue from then, and that I should go and get some rest. I nodded vaguely, and felt strong arms lead me to a soft bed, which I sank deep into, into a land of dreams, where there was a man, far away from me, yet his features were so clear he could have been right next me, and he was trying to reach out his hand to a woman who was pointedly ignoring him.

I was shook awake by my brother, who was excited as a dog in a butcher's shop, and dragged me off the soft bed towards the stairs to see the finished sword.

Rhünon stood beside the sword, staring at it in wonder, as did I. It was a rich pure green, set with light emeralds along its handle, perfect for my hand size, and the steel was tainted a shimmering green, so shiny that I could see reflections in. I guessed it would be useful if I wished to see someone behind me. There were many patterns swirling up and down the weapon, making it almost an object of beauty, not of gore.

_Come now, you're an Urgal. Those two things go together._

I smiled sadly. _That is very true. I just hope that I can still differentiate after this war._

Rhünon wiped her brow, "Not as brilliant as Brisingr, but I believe that I did at least second best to it. It makes a fitting assistant to it, do you not agree?"

I laughed wryly, "I make a fitting assistant; no one has heard of me yet."

"Ah, but they will eventually in your own right, young Tamunora. You have so many years in front of you. I have lived plenty enough to tell you so." She lifted up the weapon, and passed it to me, "Now, what are you going to call it?"

I was surprised, "I'm meant to name it?" The concept seemed faintly bizarre to me.

She saw my expression, and laughed, "You would name a horse, wouldn't you, because they are useful? Swords are the same, and it's useful if you wish to go down in legends. Choose carefully; think of its purpose, and then a name that encompasses it."

I frowned, casting around for a word in the Ancient Language. Brisingr was a fine name, as it went alongside tidily with a dragon's ability to breathe fire...yet I didn't want a similar name, as this sword was definitely different...I stared at the green emeralds, then I felt for the green emeralds in my memory, in my pocket, upon Emereldo's body, in his name...what had started it all? Who had, in all fairness, thrown me onto this path in the first place, and who would have wanted to right his wrongs?

"Evandar." I suddenly said, and the sword suddenly began to shudder, and sprayed a sharp, powerful jet of lightning against the wall, singing it, making me fall to the ground in shock.

Rhünon stared at the wall, "It would appear that our former king had more power than we thought." Before I could correct her mistake, she waved her hand, "Stories are for peace time; here, Jeod, take this sword." She took a sword off a shelf, and it was a silver, slender blade with an amber gem set on its pommel, "It looks about right for you. And also," She reached down for two linen bags, "Your armours. I believe some dragon armour is waiting for you, Bjartskular, at Tialdari Hall, where our ruling family lives, and will give you instructions for the impending battle. Now shoo; I have much to do." She shooed us out with our gifts, ignoring our stuttered thanks.

We easily found the hall, and we were greeted by what at first I thought was a swan, but after some squinting, I realised it must be the Queen, and I greeted his respectfully, jabbing my brother to reciprocate. She introduced herself as Islanzadí, and frowned when she saw Emereldo.

"Why hasn't your presence been known to me sooner?"

"Your majesty, my position wasn't retrieved honourably. Emereldo didn't come, as an egg, to those elves coming of age in the past year, and was touched by fewer Varden children than Saphira was, because my father wished me to become a Rider. Many people agreed therefore that it was better to keep our presence unknown until it was necessary for us to be known. Now, your majesty, is the time, and I apologise on behalf of those who have unwillingly deceived you for keeping my presence hidden."

She looked hard at me, "You were at the Agaetí Blödhren." It was a statement, not a question, and I bit my lip.

"Yes, I was. And it was I who kissed Eragon."

She nodded, "I'd rather that happened than him to be consorting an elf maiden. It would be unwise, as he will endure forever, whilst elves do not, and he is still human at heart."

I curtseyed, "As you wish, your majesty. What do you wish me to do?"

She snapped her fingers, and a bag was brought to us, "This is dragon armour, as used by one of the dragons which died during the fall. It is green coloured, which means it will be correct for Emereldo. I wish you to prepare for battle, and accompany Oromis and Glaedr to Gil'lead with the troops. I will follow you shortly."

We left the hall, and donned the armour outside, in a leafy courtyard, Jeod and I giggling as we tried to get the dragon armour on. When we eventually got it on, we left the hall, Emereldo flying up high above the city. A huge whooshing sound announced Glaedr's presence. I twisted my hand on my sternum at him and Oromis, and the elf touched his mouth with his two fingers, and we wordlessly flew side by side, out of the forest, on the way to gore, but hopefully glory. It is interesting how they sound alike. Perhaps I am Urgal in my way of thinking after all.

Three days later, I was upside down, and then I was sideways, tilting at clear cut angles, trying to avoid the rain of arrows coming down upon us, Jeod gripping tightly onto my waist. Capturing the city was harder than the confident elves thought, and I could see that Glaedr and Oromis were being overwhelmed. We raced over to them, intending to help. I shot the attackers with magic, striking them dead, and my brother created a shield over the Rider and Dragon. However, before we could continue with the battle, an unexpected drop of blood dirtied the water. It was Murtagh and his dragon again. My heart clenched at the sight of his face, and all the old guilt came crashing back, like an abandoned child wishing to wreck his revenge. Just like Murtagh.

They dived at Oromis and Glaedr at first, twisting around each other until they were many miles high above the city. We pursued them, ready to intervene should we need too, but we were interrupted when a spell that barely missed us was shot upwards into the air. I stared down at the attacker, and saw a short man running away...a very short man, with red hair and a suspiciously long beard...

Emereldo sensed my hunch, and pulled into a dive after the attacker, and pinned him against the wall of a house which was falling down, and, sure enough, it was Kuthian himself. To be fair on him, he looked suitably guilty.

"Tamunora! I'm so sorry! I was captured by the King when I wanted to see more of the city, and I lost track of where you were." He waved his hands helplessly, "He places enchantments on me, and taught me things – terrible things! – that can never been undone." He looked at me, pleadingly, "There's only one way out for me, Tamunora; you must kill me."

I opened my mouth, and closed it, my mind flying back to that moment when Evandar was at my mercy, and then even further when Urgals were being blasted by my magic, then even further again when I accidently grabbed a girl's arm too hard, and hurt her...

"Kuthian, I cannot just kill you; life is too precious. I believe that there is way around this, and I believe I have a plan."

"You do?" He looked hopeful. Good for him; I was lying, I didn't.

"I do." I replied, thanking everything and everyone out there that we weren't speaking the ancient language.

Then I heard a great roar above, and to my stomach flopping, mouth hanging, fist tightening horror, Glaedr was falling, Oromis crumpling on the building nearby, his face scarred a bloody, his neck broken. Glaedr crushed some empire soldiers, bringing down some houses. I felt a dry scream ring out, and I dragged Kuthian onto Emereldo, intending to scrape Murtagh's insides out to feed to Emereldo, since he proved to like them so much.

The air whistling a battle cry, Murtagh and his dragon tailed off, away from the city, and turned around to face us. Emereldo twisted over Murtagh, allowing me to give him a blow to the head, giving him a cut behind his ear, and the dragon to receive a blow from Emereldo's tail. However, when we turned back again to attack again, the wounds had been healed, and they were stronger than ever.

Confused, I stared at them, then I stared at the bulge in Murtagh's saddle. _Emereldo, what could that be? _

He stared at it. _It can't be...it can't be an eldunari!_

_A what?_

_A dragon's heart to you. Oh, by burnt venison! Dragon hearts have more power than most anything really; it's where all a dragon's wisdom is stored, and how it, mysteriously, passes such intelligence onto young hatchlings. We must get it off of him, so we can defeat him fairly!_

_Right you are, but it shall be difficult. _Emereldo answered by lunging at the dragon, biting at his leg, whilst I quickly slashed the saddle, allowing a golden orb to fall out, and it landed in my brother's lap. I quickly parried Murtagh's attack on my brother, and smacked his arms away, and dug it into the dragon's side, "Here's a thorn in the backside you won't forget." I teased, and Emereldo sped up, "Catch us if you can!" I screamed back at them.

They almost did. Murtagh send a spell at us when we were about two miles south of the city, and it missed, thankfully, but it scared us to raw nerves. It was then Murtagh took a low blow, and shot a spell at Kuthian, which transformed him into, of all things, a rock.

"All things should stay as they are," Murtagh cackled, "Kuthian was a dwarf, and that makes him a creature of rock, if I am correct. The King was beginning to become _bored _of him, ha ha! I will leave you now, to understand what you have experienced." Then he was gone.

We landed hastily, and looked at the rock that was once Kuthian, and found that the only defining feature left was the coppery colour, not dissimilar to the colour of his hair.

"We have to go to the Varden." I told Jeod, "Before Murtagh becomes the Prince of this crazy, crazy land."


	19. Chapter 19

**This City**

Murtagh and his dragon twisted over our heads, reminding us of his chase, and Emereldo veered to the south, towards the plains, gaining height and speed until our eyes streamed and our bones froze to our skins from the force and the cold. I sensed Jeod shoving the Eldunari and the rock into his pack hurriedly, and then grabbing wildly onto me, of which I was relieved, knowing that he had little experience of speed.

The world became soundless, as if we had died, to the screams of the wind, howling us into afterlife, yet we knew it was just that which we were escaping, and I felt a pang of sadness at the irony, of how I had to run from a former comrade because of my foolishness, as well as the King's. The weight of the air rushing past us was nothing compared to the weight of guilt that crippled me to the saddle, making me sag like an old bag. Yes, that's me; an old bag, hitting out at others because she can't get her life right...

_Tamunora, are you being angsty again?_

I sighed with a grimace. _Yes, Emereldo._

_Then shall I tell you something about _Eldunarya_?_

_...go ahead. I don't see anything wrong with that._

_Right. An Eldunari, as you know, means 'heart of hearts', and it is a gem-like organ within a dragon's body. To ask whether I can sense it is like asking you to sense your brain; it is impossible, as it is part of the system for sensing anything. It's where our souls are placed, and usually when we die, they fade away with our bodies. However, during our lifetime, usually later on in life, we can disgorge it, and all our wisdom and strength isn't lost with our demise. The problem with that, once it is out, we cannot place it back in, as you cannot kill someone and bring them back._

I nodded, straining against the wind, noticing that Murtagh and Thorn were lagging behind. _That makes sense._ Then a horrifying thought crept into my mind, and I had learnt not to ignore them. _Do you think they were using the Eldunari to fuel their powers?  
Most probably, I'm afraid, and it's why they are slacking now, as we have all three of their Eldunarya._

_Three?! I swear that there was only one!_

_Cloth eyes. There were three, and if it wasn't for your brother's extraordinary catching skills, they would still be somewhere in Gil'lead._

_Oh...guess slowness missed out on one person in our family. Have you ever seen me play a ball game? It's pitiful._

_No I haven't. _He looked around, and I saw a smile flicker over his snout. _They have turned back, but I think we should keep going, despite the darkness. We must make it to before they move on again._

_You can't keep going that distance! You will collapse of exhaustion!_

_Remember, we have Eldunarya now. Contact them, and ask for their permission._

Feeling cautious, I reached out with my mind to my brother, who attacked me, until he realised that I wasn't trying to annoy him, and relaxed. _Reach out your consciousness to the Eldunarya and ask them for energy to give to Emereldo. _I could sense his surprise, but I knew that he had asked and had succeeded when I sensed Emereldo's wings beating faster and harder.

_That's much better. Thank you Jeod, Tamunora._

I smiled, and looked to the late evening stars, seeing in the distance that Murtagh and his dragon had turned towards Ûru'baen, as the elves presumably had captured Gil'lead. The stars stood like many Eldunarya, waiting in the unperceivable distance, waiting to be rescued by those who cared. We continued through the night, our eyes many leagues from drooping, energised by the thrill of what was to come.

The same question buzzed happily yet cautiously through my mind; what will he say? Of course, _he _was Eragon, and I could see his bright, intelligent face before me, hardly marred at all by the Elvin sheen that was an eternal legacy upon him and I, eyes as keen and dark as the bark of a tree, hair a dark golden brown, sweet honey in my eyes. I could feel his touch against me, as it was that night, and I longed for it upon me again, to hear the sound of his voice, speaking of honesty, of hope...it wasn't until the sun dimmed faintly in the horizon when Emereldo, feeling slightly annoyed at my dreaming, interrupted the razor silence.

_Behold the conquered Feinster._

I craned my neck to the left, allowing my brother to look to the right, and saw the city. It was at first a vague blur against the rush of the wind, but Emereldo began to slow, allowing the fortified city, now conquered and alive with flames that licked of tongues, speaking words of lives that were lost and saved in the battle. And I saw them, upon the battlements. I felt real tears, defiant against the wind rushing, and I called out to him, hoping yet so confident that he knew who we were.

I heard him yell as well, and he leapt upon her, whether in malice or shock I'm not sure, and she took off, and the two dragons came towards each other like bolts of coloured lightning. Saphira gave an earth shaking roar, making the very air tremble to infinity and much further than beyond, and Emereldo responded in kind, only shaking the fading stars above as well, and breathed a plume of fire.

_I didn't know you could do that._

_As I said, you have cloth eyes._

I saw Eragon had his sword held high, as blue and shimmering as the sky, yet when we drew closer, he brought down his sword, looking puzzled. I called his name again, suddenly wrought with shaking fear, distorting the word. When they were mere feet away, Saphira hovered, and regarded us with amusement whilst Eragon's face was a bright sheet.

_It would appear that my Rider was not expecting anything like this. _Saphira commented dryly to me.

_You lose some, you win some. _Emereldo jibed. _We can only hope that he can get over the fact that he is not alone._

She chuckled. _Aye. _Her sapphire eyes were all aglow when she beheld Emereldo, and I knew that they would trade many words before the day would be out. My brother tapped my shoulder.

"Is that Eragon, who looks like he has to face a hundred Urgals?"

"Yes Jeod, it is." I smiled at Eragon, and he uncertainly smiled back, "He won't have to fight those Urgals, however; he won't even have to fight me. If we may, we shall explain ourselves to him." _Just as well he doesn't know that I am an Urgal, broadly speaking._

_I quite agree._

"So, you have both been hiding in the shadows, out of sight, because of your father's dishonourable actions, thus making Saphira and I believe that we were alone. During this time, you have saved our backsides many times, yet also chopped them up once by offending Murtagh enough to give himself over to the King."

I shifted on my feet awkwardly, and looked around Eragon's tent, "Not exactly. You see, Saphira knew about the both of us, of which knowledge goes back to Tronjheim."

"Tronjheim!"

"Indeed."

Eragon frowned slightly, his upswept eyebrows appearing like a fair hawk's plumage, "Which would presumably explain why Saphira would disappear in the night in Tronjheim."

I flushed, feeling sheepish, "You weren't supposed to know that."

"I didn't know what she was doing, but I did notice her absence during the nights." It was then his turn to blush, "And when you were in the bath..."

"...yes, Emereldo was there, and saw your...I'm sorry, that couldn't be helped."

He folded his arms and looked away. Emereldo, feeling guilty, leaned towards him. _If it makes you feel any better, it wasn't too bad._

Saphira guttered a throaty laugh, I couldn't help but smirk, but my brother, who was quietly stood beside me, gave Eragon a sympathetic expression.

"He's only joking, Eragon. Emereldo gives himself over to humour than pride much more often than Saphira, and Glaedr, for that matter." I put my hand on his shoulder, "Speaking of Glaedr, I am truly sorry for your loss, Eragon-finiarel." I uttered this last in the Ancient Language, validating its truth. He looked me in the eyes, and then away again.

"It was not my loss; it was the world's loss, and I am sure it all felt it, even if they weren't entirely aware." His jaw tightened, "I'm not sure what to make of Murtagh right now, Tamunora; I don't know if I want to kill or forgive him."

I bowed my head, "Don't do either; I deserve such punishments for injuring him beyond repair."

He looked at me, surprised, "You really think that it was your fault?"

I nodded, "Yes." I drew my sword from my belt, and presented it to him, "Do you want to know why this sword is called Evandar, after the last Elf King?"

His eyebrows dipped together between his eyes, "Yes please."

(ERAGON POV)  
I was, to be perfectly honest, resigned to the fact that Saphira and I were the last sane Rider and dragon left in the whole of Alagaësia, and that the green egg would never be captured for the Varden, so Saphira would have to be the last of her kind, unless she could commit herself to Thorn or, worse, Shruikan, since Glaedr was now dead, his spirit only alive because the Eldunari he gave to us before separating for the last time.

Then they came. She had always been on the side of my sight, a friendly, genuine voice amongst the foolish politics and deception I have been accustomed to in the past year. When I first met her, I assumed her to be one of the girls from the Varden, and would admonish me for interrupting her bath. Yet she did not, merely, with dignity, covered her nakedness and took an interest as me, a person, rather than wanting to drag me along for her particular gain...in the non-physical gain, of course.

And when she admitted to being a magician...I could not help but be curious about her, wanting to learn more. It was not infatuation, as was the curse that inflicts me with Arya, rather...honestly wanting to befriend someone who cared. When I see her, I see the woman who I imagine is my mother, the mother I can never remember. When she explained visiting Brom's tomb, and adding her own epitaph, it simply made sense. As it did when she regaled taking me to Angela to be healed, and not leaving my side for an entire day.

I did not see her for a while, until we were Ellesméra, when still bound by human restrictions, punished Vanir, and helped me up, gentle on my back; giving me words of encouragement, of care...I felt an insatiable need for her to stay by my side almost as closely as Saphira, and I snatched at those moments I received, holding them to my heart. I believe that they kept me alive during those times.

Then there was that night during the celebration. I tell myself that I was not in my usual state of mind, which I was merely fooling around with my closest friend, laughing together, enjoying the frivolity, and the kiss was a mere mistake, an impulse in the heated moment when she fell into my arms. I was a human, inside and out, and how would I be expected to react when a beautiful woman such as she fell into my arms?

Yet she did not push me away, which surprised me. Arya only ever pushed me away, reminding me of our age difference, yet Tamunora didn't; she even responded, making the Elves around us cheer lustily, and when I fell, she picked me up, once more, for assistance from Oromis...

And to think, that she looked at me like an equal all that time, yet I could see her as nothing but a common magician! I felt shame at this, but when she walked by my side, her midnight hair loose, eyes reflecting the gleam of her dragon, I knew that she had forgiven me, and I felt my eyes shake at the realisation, which shocked me. Her brother, possessing much of her beauty, observed us, and I could tell that _he knew_; his face revealed it, and he winked at me when I stared at him.

When she told me her story from the beginning...I felt an irrational burst of anger when I heard of how Evandar, a boy she had met at her coming-of-age ceremony, treated her, and was only slightly soothed when I discovered that he was dead. Yet her compassion ruled out, her dignity intact, when she showed no anger at the boy, admitting her own mistakes freely and telling me of it all, holding back on nothing at all. Her candour didn't surprise me, as I knew that it was how she was, yet she still astonished me with her words.

"So that's why I named this sword Evandar." She said calmly, "So, in a way, two men who wanted to fight for freedom could do so through their names. I know it sounds foolish, but it just makes sense."

I could only nod in response, and simply say, "You both have to meet Lady Nasuada, for she will wish to know of your presences."

She looked at me, obliging me to look back at her, and his eyes glistened, "I hope the game I have to re-enter, playing the correct rules this time, isn't too inlaid with a hundred traps."

I took her arm gently and took her out of the tent, her brother following with a serious expression, "Don't worry; there will be a thousand." I jested, and she giggled.

(End of POV – Back to Tamunora)

Despite the flames still flickering and the last gasps of destruction raging around me, I could not help but feel a glow of peace fill me from the heart and outwards as I walked beside Eragon. The feelings I had for him were the centre of this, of course, and they fed the little glow, allowing it to expand into a pleasantly heavy orb in my chest, making me smile despite how it constricted my breathing. I could feel Emereldo's feelings just a little way ahead of me, of how they, through the riotous colour of images and emotion, overlapped with Saphira's, and I could feel my ears blush as I interpreted them, making me intent on teasing my best friend when we were alone.

Eragon seemed, however, unnoticing of how our dragons were behaving; rather, his thoughts had drifted away with the smoke, to other places, other situations, far more sinister than the present. It occurred to me that he had killed many more than I to be where he was now, and that he must be dwelling upon it in a weighty manner. I cleared my throat shyly,

"What are you thinking of, Eragon?"

He looked up, startled, "Nothing of consequence. Why?"

"It must be of consequence if you appear to freeze in another time to dwell on it." I insisted cheekily, making him laugh.

"It really is of no consequence compared to what needs to be done, Tamunora." I liked how he said my name, how his Northern Accent rolled the 'r' and made the 'T' sharp, with his soft voice delivered from his honest mouth...It was certainly a day of inconsequential thought.

We arrived at a tent decked in gilded finery, which I assumed belonged to Nasuada, now obviously the Leader of the Varden, and we caused a rumpus when the guards saw us, and nearly fainted when they saw Emereldo winking at them. One of them hurried inside to alert Nasuada, who hurried out of the tent to see for herself another dragon.

She had changed quite considerably since I had last seen her from afar in Farthen Dûr. Her face was older, wiser, her clothes of a finer cloth, befitting for the Leader than that of the daughter, and held a more charismatic, imperious stance in her persona, obliging me to curtsey as Eragon bowed. Her expression softened slightly when she saw me, and said,

"You do not need to curtsey before me, Tamunora; Eragon has to because he is my vassal."

Eragon sighed, "My lady, you are another person who has met another rider without my knowing."

Another lady came out from the tent, "I believe the whole Varden knew, Eragon." She corrected drily, and I saw that it was Arya, who I had come to know as the Princess of the Elves, which, when I compared this to her in her leather clothes, made me want to giggle and question human social norms.

Eragon looked uncomfortable, and looked down at his boots, and I felt sympathy for him, "Arya Drottingü, if I may, I believe that his ignorance is not a joke."

She inclined her head, "You are correct, but it's fun to jape about him sometimes. The best leaders take jokes about themselves in good grace."

"I understand." Remembering my manners, I launched into the traditional greeting, which made the elf laugh, and respond. All this time, out of the corner of my eye, I observed that Eragon was peeking at her in a fascinating manner, whilst Arya seemed to find my brother an object of interest. I looked over at Nasuada, and twitched my shoulder to say; _I don't understand anything that's flying over my head. _She smiled at me, comprehending.

_Oh come on, Tamunora! What's wrong, after the heat the battle and the smoke of the equal death and glory, with some, ah, __**light **__romance? It's because you aren't in an advantageous position, isn't it? Ha!_

I scowled up at him, and saw that he and Saphira had crossed tails. _Since when was that light romance? I was listening in on Glaedr's lessons on Matrimony!_

_So you can receive help in your unexpected quest? _When he saw my expression, he relented. _Tamunora, I am only jesting._

_Good. Now I will leave you two alone, and I will explain ourselves to Lady Nasuada, without anyone considering romance. _I requested a private audience with her, and it was granted without as much as a raised eyebrow.

As I regaled my entire story to her, my head span and my heart drowned in it all, the orb of peace smashed to mere crumbs of a once fine feast. Another one of my now deadly accurate hunches formed at the dead centre of the chaos within me, that Eragon was in love with Arya...the evidence was disreputable, and it stung me to learn it. What prevented me from losing control was the other fact that Arya had different destinations for her heart...one of whom appeared to be my own brother.

_Eurgh! What a mess! _When I had managed to make myself excused, after having to greet a thousand nobles – a thousand traps indeed; I hoped that I could remember enough of their names to survive in the airlessness of politics – I found Emereldo waiting sheepishly outside, with a folded green canvas beside him. He indicated it with his snout, and grinned diffidently. _This is our tent; have any idea of how to put it up._

_Magic does. _I put it on Emereldo's back, and went to find Eragon and Saphira's tent, intent on finding some answers.

I erected the tent beside their tent in an empty space left for us by Nasuada's orders, and oversaw furniture being placed in; a bed, a metal bath, a small wooden chest and a mirror. I saw my face in it, and I tucked it in the chest with the rest of my possessions; I couldn't bear to see my appearance, as it was so similar to hers.

Taking a deep breath, I marched over to Eragon's tent, and threw the flap open, finding him alone, as Saphira and Emereldo had disappeared somewhere in the city. He was reading a book whilst sitting on his bed, which he hastily dropped on the ground in surprise when I burst in. He looked at me, non plussed, and, feeling awkward, I burst out,

"You are in love with Arya, aren't you?" I realised after I had said them that they sounded acutely accusing, and regretted them.

His eyes widened, "How did you know?"

"Aside from that it's obvious, no reason really."

He looked at the ground, at where his book lay, "I don't know why I do." He confessed, his eyes bound to the book, as if he were still reading it, despite the fact it was closed, "She won't reciprocate her feelings, because we are seven and eighty years apart, and she had made the point many times that humans and elves make poor pairings, even when the humans are Riders. Yet I cannot shake myself off her, Tamunora! It's like an illness that keeps returned, and no one can cure it." I heard him give a choking sob, deep from his body, and I saw his cheeks glisten with running moonlight scales. I knelt beside him, and searched for the words to ease the situation.

"My father, he is a magician, as would make sense, as I was born one myself, and he cured my brother and me of many illnesses by using something called immunisation. You would receive a milder form of the sickness, and your body would remember how to handle it, so when the real thing comes, you are prepared. It is too late for you to use this method, but it can be adapted; what you need to do is to discover someone else, someone who can guide you into less troubled waters, so your sickness can be healed. You do not have to fall in love with them, but you can trust them with friendship and the deepest of matters, transferring your affection elsewhere."

He hesitated, and his brown eyes were of a hawk hatchling; dark, intense and fascinating, but obviously so young and innocent still, "Those were useful words, Tamunora; I think I shall use them. Thank you." I nodded, and then when he said no more, I took a risky liberty, and sat beside him. I picked up the book, and read the front cover.

"Domia abr Wryda? The Dominance of Fate? A very relevant book for the both of us." I commented dryly, giving it to him after brushing off the dirt.

He laughed, "Yes, I quite agree." He paused, weighing the book in his hand, and asked, switching to the Ancient Language, "Tamunora, did you receive your fortune from a witch called Angela?"

I smiled at the memory, "Yes, I did. What of it?"

"Did it mention a romance?"

My heart stopped. I could reply in the human language, but then I would be shown as a liar, or even a coward, so I was forced to stammer, "Y-y-yes, it did."

"Who was it?"

"Um, a farmer and his..." I tried to lie, but the magic that bound the words prevented me, and a strangled word came out.

"What?" Eragon's voice suddenly became urgent. "And what?" He suddenly changed the subject, "Tamunora, what was the name of your grandmother?"

I was becoming slight agitated, "Lovissa, but why...?"

His eyebrows flew up, "You do realise that your Grandmother was one the last of the Grey Folk, and her blood runs in you?"

_What? _"Did you get that from that book?"

"Yes, and too many coincidences annoy me." He hesitated, and took my hands, which I liked, and I began to calm, despite my annoyance at him, "In my fortune, I was foretold that I would have a romance with a woman of noble birth."

"Well, that would mean Arya, then."

"No, a person of _noble _birth. Since you are a descendant of a member of the grey folk..."

My heart leapt to the conclusion before the rest of me, "You are basing your feelings on what dragon bone told you? A _noble _sentiment, but do you really feel it Eragon, or do you think you feel it?" I held both his hands between my own, feeling how cold they were all of a sudden, "I cannot deny that I hold enough affection for you within me to drown the whole Empire, but I can't base it all on Wryda." Regretfully, I stood up, releasing his hands, and before me, I saw those trees, just like bars closing in, "And anyway, one of us may die quite soon, so what is the point? I wish to remain platonic for now." With a regretful swish, I left the tent, unable to see for the sun and the rain, far and near.

_A thousand and one traps. _I thought, as I sifted through my chest, and occupied myself with the Eldunarya, coloured, mired in irony, red, green and blue.


	20. Chapter 20

**How Things Shine**

I was still staring at the Eldunarya an hour later when I heard the tent material shuffle, and I looked around, my eyes heavy and puffed from tears I had held back, ready to punch whoever came through the door.

However, I could not punch Emereldo, especially when he possessed a sober aura, his great green eyes solemn as he regarded me, taking in my shrunken form.

_I'm sorry, Tamunora. _

I rubbed my eyes. _What for? Nothing was your fault._

_That's not true. I should have come to you sooner, rather than cavort foolishly around with Saphira, ignoring our Rider's distress in our selfishness, even when the city still burns._

_Emereldo. _ I smiled at him. _You and Saphira are the two last untwisted dragons left, and one of each gender. You should be allowed to delight in each other as long as you wish. My troubles are nothing compared to those of the Dragon Race._

_Tamunora, are you on a lying tangent? A dragon is less without their Rider, as the Rider isn't who they are without their dragon. Just because my race is on the edge of extinction doesn't mean I neglect what matters to me the most. _His snout moved further into the tent cautiously. _May I come in, or shall I fear the wrath of a punch?_

I giggled nervously. _Sorry. Yes, of course you can._

Like a sleek vine across a forest floor, he slipped in the tent noiselessly, and settled himself down into the spacious tent, curled into a position not unlike a cat's. _That's better; I'm not interrogating you now._

_Do I really matter to you that much? _I asked, curiously, gripping onto my knees, peering at him.

_Well, I think you would. We do share thoughts a lot, and if I have any value for myself, it would extend to you, now, would it not? _He winked at me, and laid his head along the ground, watching me. _Now, what is this fascinating saga that I know little about?_

I sighed, and scooted along the ground towards him, close enough to feel his warm breath hearten me. _Well...you probably know how I feel towards Eragon?_

_Yes. Hard not to, but you could blame that one on me; I fell for Saphira, which leads you to fall for Eragon._

_If you blame yourself one more time, I will be lead to believe that it's you who makes me angsty, impassioned and crazy._

_...You might be right in thinking so!_

_Oh, shush. Anyway, it would appear that Eragon loves Arya, but she won't reciprocate those feelings, and she has her eyes on my brother...despite the obvious age difference. It makes me wonder where my cloth headed brother has gone...and so, Eragon had read the history of Alagaësia, found a page on my family, and, remembering Angela's prediction, realised that it could be me that it refers to who will be his lover, as I am apparently descended from the Grey Folk King and Queen blah blah...although how he knows of my feelings, I have no idea._

_I think you have gone slightly paranoid, if not crazy. It sounds to me that he genuinely feels for you...as he, erm, would. _He sounded embarrassed.

_Saphira loves you, doesn't she? _I giggled when he looked away sheepishly. _That's nice, but it doesn't necessarily mean that Eragon will love me too. It just can't work that way; it's too...oh what's the word?_

_Perfect? What's so wrong with that?_

_I don't know...I suppose it's the fact that we have so many years ahead of us, it might kill us to put up with it._

_Put up? _His eyes glinted mischievously. _Don't tell me you want the death and destruction to continue! Why not a little bit of love, eh?_

_Emereldo! _I stifled a chuckle. _It's not like that...it's just that..._

Emereldo saw him in my mind, and he gave a breathy growl, his way of sighing. _Oh, aye. Murtagh._

_Yes. Murtagh. _I saw his shape before me, as I first saw him, berating me for sneaking upon them in the mountains; when we were in that room and he had spoken to me like an equal, not revealing my secret to Eragon; when I had him placed in a better room, of how his eyes widened at me, which was after he came looking for me; of how he looked when bandaged, addled in his head, in those glowing corridors – his rage, his determination for revenge, and how I saw him again only two days before, proud upon his dragon, eyes steeled to kill...and then what I knew of him, of how he was brought up in the King's court, unable to trust anyone, unable to love, yet when he met Eragon, he showed him the kindness only a brother could show...

I gasped, unable to comprehend my thoughts as I slid the two men's faces together in my mind's eye. _Emereldo...are they...brothers?_

_Aye. Wasn't it obvious before, or was the cloth thicker back then? _

_By the Gods! No wonder Murtagh wants to kill Eragon me...if I had a sister, and she took Eragon, I would want to kill her, then him, myself! Oh Emereldo! What a mess we have gotten into! Hundreds of men are dying because of my foolish actions! _I felt my eyes tremble at the thought again.

_Tamunora, you already have filled the sea a hundred times with your tears. Just remember that their deaths would be avenged by correcting your actions. _He got up. _I believe it's time for a walk of fulfilled promises. Come._

Sniffing, I dutifully got up, tucking the Eldunarya and the rock into my spacious dress pockets, and followed him out of our tent, nodding politely to the guards who had silently placed themselves outside, and were giving me concerned expressions, which I discovered was not unique to them; others were looking at me in a similar manner. A bearded man with his pretty pregnant wife were looking at me closely, but when I looked back, they returned their attention to each other, their bodies so closely entwined they could have been the same person, despite their obvious differences.

_Jealous? _Teased Emereldo, who was beginning to walk ahead.

_Of course not; just in the want of...something._

_Aren't we all? _He replied sardonically. _Let us visit your parents._

_A fine idea. Do you know where...? Oh, Emereldo, don't look over there; it's scary._

My brother and Arya were standing nearby, and seemed to be deep in conversation. She seemed very upset, and he was holding onto her hands very softly, stroking them as he listened to her, giving the occasional word of comfort. Despite her obvious distress, the impropriety made me cringe, as I knew my brother well, and I silently thanked the Gods that Eragon was not there to witness the scene. Without much further thought, I stalked over, thunder in my heart, ignoring Emereldo's warnings, causing my brother to look at me, and jump away from Arya as if she were a bolt of lightning. Always fear women.

"Greetings, Jeod, Arya. I was just coming past, and I was curious to know what was afflicting you, Arya svit-kona, and why, Jeod, are you being embarrassing?"

Arya shook her head politely, "It is nothing to unsettle yourself about, Tamunora-elda. Your brother was giving me comfort over events that have passed that live as demons within me, as he was in a similar position to I." The expression she gave Jeod, however, made my eyebrows raise up slightly, and I felt my own demons bay with anger with my brother's next words,

"Why do you come here, Tamunora? Are you jealous that you cannot speak civilly to Eragon?"

_I will take that from you, Emereldo, but not from my brother! _I glared at him, a simmering cooking pot of rage, minutes from being served...

"Eragon?" Arya looked puzzled, "Has he been bothering you, Tamunora-elda?"

"NO!" I screamed, the pot spilling everywhere. In a slightly quieter voice, but no less scalding, I continued, "We just had...a disagreement! And I can't help but state the fact that the root of the argument was to do with his feelings towards you, Arya svit-kona. It is nothing that you should cry a pardon for; however, I feel that the antidotes for his affliction aren't strong enough. I do not mind you becoming close to my brother, as he's an idiot but lovely, but not in front of Eragon, I think. That is why I appear to disapprove."

Jeod folded his arms, "I thought you loved him, Nora...have you told him?"

"Yes."

"And to what end?"

"...no end to worry about."

He waved his arms furiously, "What is this world if all problems are downplayed and never sorted out? You're meant to cut Galbatorix's heart, not your own! Go to him and clear the air before I tell our parents."

"I will do the same about you and Arya." Yet I managed to smile, "Thank you brother, Arya. Perhaps I will see you later..." Feeling a little confused, but determined, I wandered hastily off, followed briskly by Emereldo. I approached the bearded man with his wife, who had watched the scene in interest.

"Do you wish to know where Eragon is?" Asked the man with bright eyes, veering close to laughing.

"...aye. Who are you, sir, my lady?"

"I am Roran, Eragon's cousin, and this is my wife Katrina." She smiled slightly at me, and grasped his hand, "Eragon has just disappeared up the battlements, but Saphira is not with him; she has gone hunting, I believe. I would suggest that you hurry; he looked upset, and ignored us when we called after him." Under his pleasant demeanour, he looked wrought with worry.

"I will bring him back in a lighter mood." I promised, and hurried towards the city walls. Ignoring the stairs, I climbed up the side of the wall, as the steps were still scrubbed cleanly with blood, and I wanted the physical challenge so I was calm when I reached the top. Emereldo watched me in amusement; _I will leave you to it, as I am hungry also._

_I'm not; I have apologies to give, not take. _He chuckled, and took off over the wall in search of Saphira. I frowned at the distance above me, and identified a path to the top with the stones dislodged by the battering rams used in the battle. Because of my new abilities, it was no longer hard to climb, and I scrambled up them easier than a gentle hill, eager to reach the top. I panted a little when I reached the top, and hoisted over the edge.

I then looked along the battlements, and saw him there, stiff and far seeing. Cautiously, I walked towards him, heart ready to force itself out of my chest, which confused me, as I had already given it...when I was barely arms length from him, he noticed me, and he relaxed slightly, but still looked a little tense.

"Hello Tamunora." He looked away from me again, back to the distance. I took a quietly deep breath, and asked,

"How are you Eragon? I am sorry for my rude behaviour earlier; I was feeling confused by the thousand and one traps."

He grimaced, "I'm fine." He replied emotionlessly, which was like a thorn in my chest; normally he would have found that funny...I dared to try again.

"Eragon...about what I said earlier..."He didn't give any sign of hearing me, but I pressed on anyway, "I didn't mean it. Afterwards, it began to dawn on me that despite this accursed war, there is still room for love, no matter where it comes from, and even when there's the risk that it should be divided by conflict, death or separation – perhaps even all three - people take it anyway, knowing that a few days of happiness counteracts an eternity of regret, even when it was short lived. So, I'd like to take back my words, and ask you now..." I gripped my hands firmly, readying myself to say it, but he looked round at me, eyes so dark and so bright, it reminded me of the night sky, and interjected,

"Do you love me?"

I was astonished at first, but then I found myself laughing, "I was going to say that!" and we were both laughing as we realised how silly the awkwardness was, two pure notes ringing in the air, curling around the late summer air, two little doves of peace amongst the choking smoke of the fires, which were finally beginning to die...eventually, I wiped my eyes, unable to curb my smile, and I said, "I loved you from the moment I saw you, Eragon." I replied simply, "When you were asleep in that room outside Tronjheim. When I first spoke to you in that unusual situation, I fell in love. I know that you are in love with Arya, but I don't mind; I am happy to keep things as they are, and I will support you in whatever direction you choose. But I don't think I'd know a happier thing for me, aside from defeating the King, than you wanting to be with me."

Eragon shook his head, and suddenly wrapped his arms around my waist, the soft material of his tunic against my face, his wild brown hair entwining with my own, and I delightedly wrapped my own around his, "Tamunora, I don't think I could say it as well as you, so I'm just going to say; me too!"

I laughed, and I held him tighter, my eyes overflowing again, but this time, they were not tears of sadness; they were of happiness. In my mind's eye, I could see those trees again, but they were beginning the drift apart, allowing the sun and the rain to creep on in, bringing a brilliant rainbow to our surroundings...I pulled my head from my shoulder, and I felt my lips slide onto his; opposites we are, the sun and the rain always make superb results in the dance of the rainbow...

We were there for hours that mellowed into minutes, telling each other inconsequential things, laughing when we regaled seemingly irrelevant stories about each other. As we spent time together, I discovered that in deeper character, Eragon was like the rain; practical, serious and quite pessimistic, whilst I felt I was the sun; brazen, bold and impulsive. Our personalities clashed, but the rainbow caused was too pleasant for us to mind.

As the sun began to set, however, the colours in the sky, red confronting blue and green who were staying close together, I was reminded of what was in my pocket, and I pulled them out.

"What do you have...?" Eragon asked sleepily, and his eyes popped awake when he saw what I had, "By the Gods, Tamunora! How in the whole of Alagaësia did you get those?"

"Fighting Murtagh. I cut his pack, and Jeod caught them as they fell out. We thought that they would come into useful in the final battle, you see...he asked for their permission for Emereldo to use their strength, but you shall have to ask them..." I handed him the blue one, which he took cautiously, and placed it on his lap, frowning slightly as he looked at it, and I watched him anxiously. An echo of surprise reverberated on his face, and I became enfolded in insatiable curiosity, wishing to know what had been said.

When he looked up at me, he looked vaguely excited, as if someone had told him something miraculous and he couldn't quite believe it, "Tamunora, you rescued Saphira!"

_What? _"I've done a lot of things, but she's managed to save herself very well."

He laughed, "No, I mean my father's dragon, Saphira! Her Eldunari was stolen after she was killed...thank you so much, Tamunora!" He held me close, and I blushed. A sneaky suspicion came to me, and I contacted the green Eldunari, curious to know who this dragon was. I nearly screamed when he asked where his Rider, Aiedail, was.

For the whole month of Sepembt, we conquered various cities together, fighting at each other's side, astride our dragons. The cities flew by; Melian, Belatona, Dras Leona...until we reached Furnost. It took all my strength and beyond to bring myself to capture my home, where I was born. When I showed Eragon where I grew up, the house abandoned and ravaged by spiders, he did not tease me; rather, he helped me to clean it, and when my parents came, they fell on their knees, and thanked him profusely, asking what they could give in return. Eragon blushed, and murmured,

"I would like your daughter...but I believe that is too much to ask."

My father roared with laughter, "It's what Brom would have wanted, my boy! We shall have to see when this war is over." I looked at the doorstop, reminded of how he had thrown out potential suitors in a foul mood, and compared it wryly to how he accepted Eragon. _Things have changed._

I led him up to my old room, and we sat on my bed, creaking in exactly the same way, the egg shards, bizarrely, still there. I picked them out of the wardrobe, and placed them on the bed. Eragon gathered them up, and began imitating Angela; "Manin! Wydra! My hair!". I laughed, but reprimanded him for being unkind.

He looked at my dress, and noticed a bulge in the pocket "Is there something you aren't telling me?" He asked sneakily, lounging on his side on the bed.

I looked at the bulge in my pocket, "Oh, um, you know that dwarf that got turned into a rock?"

"Aye...that's him isn't it? Lucky him; I'd love to be there."

I smacked him, but not hard, and brought it out, handing it to him. He looked at it thoughtfully, "Speaking of Angela...what was the dwarf's name?" He asked casually, yet i could sense his overpowering curiosity.

"Kuthian." At the word, Eragon fell off the bed with a thump, in a parody of how Evandar had hit the wall near on a year before...

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" He cried, yet I could see he wasn't angry; he was clearly delirious with delight. I leaned over the edge, sharing in his unknown pleasure, wondering why the rock would be important, "It's the rock of the Kuthian! I was told by a were cat that I would need it to open the Vault of the Souls! And you know what that is?"

I gasped, understanding flowing, as a word of a were cat was not to be ignored, "The store of the Eldunarya! We can free them from their enslavement!" But then I realised something else, and I stared at him, "You need your true name to enter, don't you?"

Eragon stared back at me, and beat the floor angrily, "Blast it! I don't know what that is! We're so close, yet we are blocked out by sheer glass." He placed the rock gently upon his chest, and rubbed his face angrily, making it go red and sore looking.

"Don't give up hope, Eragon." I murmured, taking the rock carefully, and peered at it, "I have an idea." I took a deep breath, and probed for Kuthian consciousness...

_Tamunora?_

_Aye! How are you feeling, being a rock?_

_Oh, it's great; no one can kill a rock, you see...it's hard to hear what's going on, though, being in your pocket. Must say, though...you and Eragon make a sublime pairing._

_Thank you, but I'm not here to idly chat. I would like to ask you a question._

_Go on..._

_Could you...could you guess Eragon's true name?_

There was a heady pause, but I was determined to hear his reply. Finally he whispered; _Yes, yes I think I could. But I need to be in touch with his consciousness..._

I punched the air triumphantly, making Eragon jump. _I will make him. Thank you so much, Kuthian! Explain to me later how you can, please? _I withdrew from him, and beamed at Eragon, "Probe for Kuthian's consciousness; he's trying to find you." Astonishment reflected in the shadows on his face, but he took the rock meekly and began to look at it intently, his face sweating. He gave a little gasp, and looked up at me, alarmed but strangely pleased.

"My true name..." He whispered, and gave the rock back to me, staring into space.

_Was it surprising, Kuthian? _I asked the dwarf.

_Oh yes, but it was a nice one. Your lover seems to be pure of heart... _I scowled with embarrassment, but I was pleased with it.

_Did the elves teach you? _I asked him.

_Aye. It wasn't all stiff courtesies, you know. What an adventure this has been...and now I get to save the pimple faced from certain death...now it's only possible._

_And we thank you for it. Farewell, Kuthian, for now._

_Indeed. Farewell. _I placed the rock in my pocket, and Eragon's eyes were following my own as I looked up, and could not help but look into them. I giggled, and he chuckled. He jumped up to sit beside me, and we fell back together on the bed, joyous in our triumph.

_True name. _I suddenly stopped giggling when I remembered finding Evandar's name, and how he wanted to die after learning it, and later learning from Aiedail that when one had someone's true name, you could control them...

"Eragon," I asked casually, "Do you think the King has imprisoned Murtagh with the knowledge of his true name?"

Eragon's jaw tightened, "Yes. He said as much when we last met."

I nodded, and sighed, "I wish we could change it." A plan began to form in the back of my mind, but I refrained from telling Eragon, for fear of hurting him.

My heart shuddered as the wind flushed over Emereldo's wings when we finally advanced on Ûru'baen, and camped a few miles away. I could distinctly see the red glow of Murtagh's dragon, and the shadow of the man himself astride him. Eragon, like I, had his gaze fixed upon him, and our silence masqueraded as an understanding of our feelings; I had no idea how he felt about his half brother, nor did he know how I felt about Murtagh.

My plan to change the Red Rider's name was a thorn, prickly, annoying...but had to be tolerated. I still had not told Eragon about the plan, and it cut me up inside, despite how I loathed to do so. As the troops around us took their places, my parents and my brother fussed over me, making sure that I was prepared for battle, and I could see Nasuada and Arya speaking to Eragon. I could not help but notice that he was still uncomfortable in her presence, and could not meet her eyes, but I decided that he just needed time to get over her. Slowly.

I could sense so much that day. The whistle and roar of the soldiers rallied by Nasuada's rousing speech still echoes in my memory, a music that describes the mood perfectly, orchestrated perfectly by the calling of war, conducted by the fierce Urgals, who I stood amongst, as an Urgal. I had become acquaintanced with all of them, especially their leader, Nar Garzhvog, who, beneath the intimidating atmosphere, has the mind of a great philosopher and strategist. He lifted his chin at me when he saw me, and rumbled,

"A fine day for fighting, is it not, Lady Burnsword?" The charming nickname was given to me when they discovered that it was me who had set fire to many of their kin.

"It always is for the Urgals." I replied with a droll wink.

He grunted, but I could tell he found it funny by the quiet snirk he made under his breath.

Further along the line, I could see Nasuada leading her horse away from Eragon, and, after leaping elegantly upon it, notched an arrow. I touched Emereldo on the shoulder, gripping my sword hard, as if these two things were the only things I had left. My newly repaired armour chinked dully, but the protection didn't mean anything to me; I was going, as far as I was concerned, completely unprotected.

_Oh, not completely. _Drawled Emereldo, who bared his fangs. _I would like to make a russet mess as well._

_Ah, that would be a fine name for the legend we're going to be in...Russet Mess; you cloth head._

_What would you come up with; Eragon? _He sniggered, _Can't do worse than Eragon's choice is name for his sword...Brisingr, I ask you!_

_No, you don't. _I smiled, and shaded my eyes as the sun came out yawning, almost too late for the battle. I could hear Nasuada yell, which prompted the humans to surge forwards, the Urgals fast in following. Quickly, Emereldo rose with a whoosh into the air, and we accompanied Saphira and Eragon, heading straight towards Murtagh and his dragon, which were also airborne and heading straight towards us. I was reminded, almost bizarrely, of how I had approached Eragon astride Emereldo. I could see my brother below, riding on Nar Garzhvog's back, sending spells at anyone who attacked...and then I saw dwarves charging, bringing back memories of Kuthian, of how I had shared bread with him, how he revealed Eragon's true name...

The red dragon attacked Emereldo first, striking Emereldo's front legs, which he retaliated by pushing back and whipping around with his tail, Saphira twisted around to bite at the red dragon's already maimed tail, subduing it. Murtagh thrust his sword out at me, and I feinted, dodged and stabbed where I could, calling upon strength from Aiedail's dragon when I dared...eventually, too much height was lost, and the three dragons separated, and dispersed to gain height. Saphira reached the top first, and brought her tail down in a crashing blow onto the red dragon's snout, making his fangs judder and leaving a clear cut upon his face. When it healed quickly, I knew that there were more Eldunarya. Therefore, when Murtagh was not looking, I cut the pack and caught them with magic as Emereldo swept beneath the red dragon.

Murtagh swore loudly when he realised where the Eldunarya went, and his dragon began pursuing us. Emereldo looped upwards towards Saphira, and I threw two of the four to Eragon, who caught them tidily, and tucked them into his armour.

"Thought you might have learnt your lesson, Murtagh!" I teased, Emereldo flipping over to administer another blow on his dragon's chest, making him roar with pain, and his wings beat much more weakly, causing his to lose height. Emereldo began to shoving him towards the ground, helped by Saphira, and eventually the red dragon fell to the ground with an earth shattering thump, Murtagh staggering away hastily as Eragon and I landed. Whilst Murtagh was fast, Eragon and I were cosmic, and we both leapt onto him, tackling him to the ground, laughing.

Murtagh snarled, "Not fair! That wasn't a fair fight!"

"Oh yes it was; you should have put the Eldunarya in a better position, where I couldn't get them, and you didn't, so that's you losing out, cloth head." Emereldo grinned appreciatively at the last.

Murtagh scowled, and began to mutter something, which made me leap off him immediately, but Eragon was not so fast, and he was blasted many metres away from where we lay. Saphira went wild, and sparks flew from her nostrils, flames threatening to burst forth in her anger. Before she could do anything, however, he immobilised her and Emereldo, and he turned his attention on me.

I smiled a twisted smile. I was ready to implement my plan.

"Greetings, Tamunora! The last time we could speak like this, you casted me to the darkness!" He sniggered at this, and walked towards me. I did not feel indigence, nor shame; I merely felt sadness at his behaviour.

"Dear me, Murtagh. Must you turn to such aggressive behaviour, when you still have a chance of escape, before you become a twisted bastard like our dear King?"

He brought up his sword, the tip so very close to my neck, close enough so if I spoke, I would receive a cut, "Brave words, Tamunora, brave words...but I am forced to kill you, Tamunora, despite your fine addition to the world...is there anything you wish to do before you die?" His face carried a golden sheen, despite the mud that scarred it already. The pan was laid out in front of me, and I sprinted to catch it, leaving it safe in my arms.

I leaned back slightly to avoid the blade, and murmured, "I do, and I hope you appreciate it." I cooled my mind to the hot tongs of death, as I batted his sword away, allowing it to spin into the dirt, and I leaned into Murtagh, kissing him full in the mouth, praying that it would work.

It seemed instantly that it did, as he did not push away from me; in fact, he responded, and I could feel his lips against mine...it didn't feel wrong for some reason, as if it were not an act of treachery on Eragon for kissing his half brother...eventually, we broke apart, and I looked at him, the words on the tip of my tongue, and they flowed out of me.

Murtagh widened his eyes, "What?"

I beamed at him, "That's your new true name. Is it better than the last one?"

Murtagh reached for my hand, and then stopped, staring at the ground, "Without a doubt." He spun around, touching his lips wonderingly.

"Murtagh?" He look round at me, amazement dancing in his eyes, "I hate to spoil the moment, but you should release them."

"Ah yes, of course!" Hurriedly, he released the spells on the dragons, and before Saphira could attack Murtagh, I rashly stood in her path, and cried,

"One moment, please, Saphira! I have changed his true name, so he is not the same." Murtagh looked up at her, fearful, but determined.

She snorted, but consented to wait. I then hurried over to Eragon, and found him stirring softly, a cut on his forehead. Carefully, I healed it, and lifted him up, supporting him against my shoulder.

"Take energy from the Eldunarya, Eragon." I murmured, and he did so, and began to perk up suddenly. When he saw Murtagh standing there, Saphira with murder written over her face, Emereldo looking bemusedly at me, he raised his eyebrows at me. I shrugged, and suggested, "Girl power?"

The halls of the palace were dark compared to the bright light outside as we, all six of us, silently followed Murtagh to where the Eldunarya were stored. We had refrained from inviting anyone else, as three dragons were intimidating enough, and more people would equate to more noise. The shadows were curling and grey as we were lead towards the centre of the castle.

"Now, keep _very _quiet through here; magic is so thick in the air, the King will be able to sense you easily. Shield your minds more fiercely than anything else, as it would be what will betray you, and cast spells to soften your steps." Murtagh whispered, as he cast spells onto his dragon's feet, which Eragon and I imitated. He grinned at us, "By the Gods, it feels good to be good sometimes."

"Yeah, but we're not doing good as such...we're just defeating him, not killing, agreed?" I hissed back. Eragon and Murtagh looked at each other, and locked themselves into silent mirth.

_I suppose not then. _ I grumbled to myself, and I followed the two men deeper in the palace.

We eventually came face to face to a wide doorway, made of simple wood, framed in stone. Murtagh stood casually beside it, "Go on, Eragon." He murmured, "Speak your true name."

Eragon sighed, and looked at both of us, "Promise to me in the ancient language that you won't laugh?"

"We won't laugh." We whispered together. Eragon nodded, and murmured his name. I could not hear it, but the door clearly could, as it creaked open slightly, and, cautiously we pushed it open, and closed it hastily behind us.

We were faced with as many as a thousand Eldunarya, glinting on polished shelves, like stars in the dark mysterious sky, and we all gasped at the sight, awestruck.

"To think I have...no, that's just...horrible." Murtagh shook his head, "Send them all to somewhere safe, and we should get out fo here."

"But where?" Eragon whispered.

"I know." I murmured calmly, "My house. Eragon and I can send them there, whilst Murtagh, you can keep watch."

"Uh, Tamunora, I have been to your house..." He looked very ashamed.

I looked at him, then suddenly I understood, "Oh...well, I have no hard feelings on that now. At least it's helpful. Let's get going everyone!"

Murtagh gave me a grateful expression, and Eragon kicked him with deliberate force, making him wince. I rolled my eyes, and we began packaging them.

It took a couple of hours, but, eventually, we were left with three Eldunarya; Saphira, Feldór and a red one that was identified as Ambra. Emereldo's eyes watered when he felt the touch of his parents' spirits against his own.

"Right," I muttered, "Time to slash Galby, men. Effeminate beings first!" I jokingly shoved Eragon forwards, earning myself an annoyed punch, making Murtagh snigger.

"Who's in there?" So suddenly came a slithering voice from behind the door, making us stop an shiver, and no one needed to say who was there, and here.


	21. Chapter 21

**How to Survive**

Until that moment, I had never realised how loud my heartbeat was, how the thoughts in my minds flowed like sloshes of water in the wind, how my armour and dress rustled against each other...until that moment, the sounds that I had smeared onto the backdrop of my life suddenly rushed forwards like little ghosts, congregating with my spirit, giving me little messages, telling me exactly what I should do. With terrible, but calm, certainty, I turned towards the three dragons, and cast a spell over them so the darkness would hide their large forms, and then I faced the two men beside me. I reached into their minds, and whispered,

_Eragon, Murtagh, listen to me. Eragon, you and I have to pretend to be injured, by administering cuts upon our arms, and Murtagh, you shall have to stand with Zar'roc pointing over us, as if you have defeated the both of us. We shall also conjure fake Eldunarya, so Galbatorix may be convinced briefly of them still being present. _When it was clear that they wished to argue, I bit through them; _No! Don't argue! I know that you do not agree with me, but as far as we can tell, it is the only way for us to gain an upper hand over the King. Now please. _I felt my eyes shake. _Do it._

They looked at each other, and we then quickly they summoned orbs, borrowing strength from their dragons, to place upon the shelves. When the mass of strength failed us, we called upon the strength within our Eldunarya, until, eventually, we released the magic, and gazed in wonder at the orbs, many little dreams floating in the distance...

A bang at the door and a muttered curse made Eragon and I jump, and automatically fall to the ground, conveniently, as the door opened with a great boom, an earthquake that preceded an eruption, which simply strode in, followed by a slinking streak of smoke. I could sense their presences so strongly, I felt sick, and wished to run away, to save myself, and let the empire be damned. Yet when I heard his silken voice, anger claimed my fear for its own, and mastered it, crafting it into its opposite; courage. Right then, I would have clouted him from where I lay.

"Ah, Murtagh...I see you have prevented the two young Riders from stealing our precious dragons and they are at your mercy. I am sure that we could _convince _their dragons to the correct path, and not to be deluded by fanciful notions of my guilt!" He crouched down beside both Eragon and I, and I could feel those slippery, greasy hands upon my hair, touching it as if he owned it already; I felt my face flush with fury, and if I could have breathed fire like Emereldo, I would have had no hesitation in doing so, "It's a shame we have to bring such a beautiful creature to shame, Murtagh; such pretty hair, and still so young and innocent, to be fighting so many! Perhaps when her dragon has been corrected, you could take her as a mistress."

_Murtagh..._I called for him softly, but I was inwardly snarling; _Shut this bastard somewhere quiet and pleasant so he can re-evaluate his opinions in a safe environment._

He was laughing in his mind, a much more carefree one than he ever used before; _With pleasure, Tamunora. _I could see him looking up at the King with a feigned expression of obedience, "Master, what shall we do about Eragon? He will be able to resist us, and Saphira is not easily subdued..."

The King guffawed, but not in a pleasurable manner, and put his hand in an unwelcoming gesture upon Murtagh's shoulder, "Together, Murtagh, we are stronger...we shall make him see sense eventually; you know our methods." Murtagh nodded stiffly, and then asked,

"Master, shall I carry Tamunora or Eragon?"

The King gave him a mocking look, "You obviously crave to take Tamunora, and Eragon is perfectly able to carry himself; if he is to be one of our riders, he has to be strong. Also, Tamunora's strength must be conserved; if she truly is one of the last descendants of the Grey Folk, she must not be hurt, our delicate little flower, clothed in green for new life." He sniggered at his joke, and turned with dignity towards the door, opening the door in a regal manner that reminded me of the sun rising, determined to conquer the blind nature of night, to bring light and warmth to the world again...I reached for my sword, and counted, seeing Eragon and Murtagh reciprocating.

One..._The ale tasted sweet against my lips as I leant into his chest, the bun that bound my hair falling loose fast. The music played sweet in my ears, despite its distorted nature in the trance that I waltzed in with this boy, this boy who I felt could take me places, places that I could never dare to hope to see, to hear, to touch...to smell, taste...His musky smell was a drug, and it was all my body craved, all it wanted to fill itself with, and it was washed dreamily with warmth as he spoke,_

"_Are you really a magician, Tamunora? And a descendant of Lovissa, of the Grey Folk?"_

_I giggled, "Upon my word, boy...upon it truly."_

Two..._"Don't hold your sword like that, Tamunora; it makes it harder to perform a block should the opponent be faster. Nay, don't look so dejected, my daughter; very few human women can boast to being as fine a swordswoman as you, including those who began learning when younger than you...I am also inclined to believe that you will surpass your brother and I very soon, and the King will, by the time Autumn comes around again, fear your prowess."_

Three! _"Where did you first see Saphira, Eragon?" I asked casually, as we walked together towards his tree house. He smiled slightly,_

"_When I was hunting in the woods in the Spine. Her egg appeared so suddenly, it frightened off our dinner for that night."_

"_Ha ha! Well, my father stole the egg from the King, and had it delivered to woods by my home, as a birthday present."_

"_He he! That one is even better!" Then he frowned slightly, "When is your birthday, Tamunora?"_

"_The third day of Ocotbr. When is yours?"_

_He grinned, "The same day. You know, we share so much in common, Tamunora..."_

_A flash of anguished eyes appeared before me, before they were swept away by the tides of war, and I felt my mood slip in the wet sand..._

Clawing at the air, I scrambled up just as the King had opened the door, and had looked back, to face three Riders leaping at him, determined to demobilise him. He drew his sword, and faced the three of us, his eyes popping at Murtagh, confidently spurring our blows off of him. Blow, parry, slash, blow parry, slash...we began to tire after a little while, cuts striping our faces like the marks upon the moon, craters of bruises as we took blows from the Black Rider, defending his eternal night. I could see that Murtagh was suffering the most, on account of his human form as opposed to Eragon and I's Elvin one, and it pained me when I could not lend my strength to him. The King found an advantage over Murtagh, and instantly shoved Eragon and I aside, landing with crippling crunches to the ground, flattening Murtagh to a gasping wreck upon the ground.

_Murtagh! Use our dragon's strength! _He stared at me, confused, _Do it, cloth-head! _Understanding flowed into those sprightly brown eyes, and I could sense his dragon and Emereldo lose a little strength as he managed to hold off the King just a little longer, before he collapsed, giving a little sigh as he fell into the voids of unconsciousness.

The King snorted when he saw how 'easily' he brought his servant down, "No matter how much you mistrust a servant, they always eventually let you down." He passed glittering eyes over us, "I just hope that you won't be like that."

"There's a solution around that." I snapped, "How about not making us servants at all?"

The King chuckled, but his eyes were frozen, coloured by a heart that had died long ago, "The young beauty has an intelligent mind as well as body! Perhaps we could find other uses for you, little wench." He strode forwards, and bent over me. I fought against him, but he batted my arms aside, and straddled me, his hands caressing my face like paralysing pain. Eragon struggled upwards, but the King raised his hand, smashing Eragon against the wall, making him curse loudly but not able to move. He looked down at me, his eyes beetles trying to creep into me, and I could see his mind, a looming storm cloud obscuring the stars behind it, and I tried to run, my mind cringing from him, throwing up as powerful barriers as I could, scurrying like a mouse to try and keep all little holes blocked. As the rain came over me from the great storm cloud, as the King tried to demobilise me, I managed to keep myself dry. And in the keep of the fortress I had built, I whispered a spell to release Eragon, who wriggled up silently, creeping behind the King, holding his sword aloft.

Eventually, I saw a weakness, a break in the clouds, and I dived for it, ripping it apart, and the King, possibly for the first time in many years, was defenceless against my blow, and I crushed him in his surprise, immobilising him just as Eragon stood behind him, and he cried, "Brisingr!", his sword burning the true blue of a morning sky. I managed to move out of the way as The Black King cowered, the last orbs on the shelves fading...then I saw something I was not expecting; the final stars of the night were falling down the King's face, and he was curled on the floor, a defeated night.

"Gone, Jarnunvösk! They have all left me, including you!" He gave a soft choke, and Eragon simply stood watching him, as did I, although unconsciously shifting away from him also, both acutely aware of what we were experiencing, "Everything I tried to find meaning in, taken away, and destroyed. Nay, I could say that I destroyed it myself, rather than blame it upon others, as I have had to do these many years; the weight, despite I being a strong man, is a heavy burden, and only others can carry it for me for I to still walk in this world.

"But how much I want to rejoin you! How much I want to feel your beautiful scales, ache to hear your musical voice! How I wish that we could take to the skies again, and laugh with youth and innocence in our hearts, with little else to care for but ourselves!" Then he sniffed, "Nay, I am wrong to wish for our innocence to return, for it was exactly that innocence that allowed us into this mess in the first place! Oh Jarnunvösk, how I wish we could turn back the hands of time, and do things ever so slightly differently, and perhaps our dreams would have come true! As I have said many times to you, the old order was fat and corrupt, and needed shaking up, reminding of what it was created to be, yet I did not foresee for people to support its gluttonous nature; such naivety, I must say...

"Yet we must correct those people! And we still have many more people who still do not _see_ what is right and true. They know it, deep down within their caverns that reside in their hearts, that what we are doing is the just thing..." He relaxed a little, his breath becoming slow and regular, and began muttering to himself.

I slowly stood up, as quietly as I could allow myself, and looked at the Black King, suddenly not so cocksure about killing him. Just like Evandar, despite how I struggled to recall his memory without a twinge of regret, I would be killing a man simply because of what he held as true, and followed his opinions as a league-across river would stubbornly run its course even if it had to dodge you, and literally the whole world would have to amass together to stop its seemingly deadly flow. Was his ideology any different from my own? Was my ideology any better? When he was possibly little older than I, he believed that he was doing the right thing, as I was, and so massacred many dragons and riders he believed were corrupt. Similarly, I believed that a mad King was corrupt, and so I had killed hundreds, maybe thousands, to be in his presence...close enough to slip my sword between his ribs...

I put my hand on Eragon's shoulder, face completely stoically stiff and serious as I whispered to him, "I do not believe that we should kill him, despite what others say."

He gave a start at my words, the flames upon his sword fading into nothing, giving off a sullen blue glow, but as he looked at the King, the words seemed to spin around his head, as he mulled them over. Finally, he murmured, with a voice cloaked in sadness that hid an uncertain fury, "He killed my uncle, my father, Ajihad, many people I grew up alongside...and, despite my brother's many crimes, seems to have sent him to the gates of death. He delivered the arrows, the swords and the spells that killed them under his unforgiving hands and upon his blackened tongue, and he will send many more away in this way, including, eventually, ourselves, when we become his slaves. I don't know about you, Tamunora," His beautiful brown eyes were lanterns in the gloom, "But I prefer death to slavery."

I sighed. I knew that I had to explain this to him; Eragon was, despite his brilliance, a man conspiring with the wolves of prejudice, "So to make a right, we must perform two wrongs? Eragon, I did not say that we will allow him to continue in his rape of the empire; rather, I meant that I think it is unnecessary to kill him. You wanted to kill your half-brother, until he changed his true name. I know it sounds stupid, but...how about we try and change the King's true name?"

Eragon raised his eyebrows, looking sceptical, "How about we don't? You know that neither of us can change a true name when we don't even know it in the first place...wait, how did you change Murtagh's name?"

I blushed when I recalled, "I...I gave him something that he could never before even hope for."

"Ah." He frowned, "I don't think the King is in want of anything." I nodded, staring hard at the still gibbering man, believing that his dragon was with him, and curiously glad of two things; Eragon hadn't asked what that something was, and that even the King could not face up to one of the Grey Folk...

I gasped; that was it! I had to use this...power, I apparently had, and use it upon the King to alter him. Without any further ado, I barged my mind into his, which was like a mountain opening a door, and it crumpled against the weight. I soon reached the centre of his consciousness, making his blabbering soon stop, and thus immobilising him. I sifted through the centre of the mind, careful to be gentle, as I did not wish to drive him mad, trying to find his true name...when I eventually found it, I had to place a hand on my mouth to prevent myself from vomiting as I heard the words ring, alone yet resonating, like a lone battle cry in an empty land, the last man left alive...I looked within myself, through the memories, behaviours, personality...until I found a part of myself that I could not truly say was...there, yet if I 'saw' it, it has to be there, does it not. I pulled on it, and it fell like a money bag, spilling its trove for me to take, a vast pool of energy I never knew I had, and I drew upon it like a greedy beggar, and wielded it with pride towards Galbatorix's mind, clubbing at his true name like a beggar demands new clothes from a perplexed propitiator with his new found wealth, fashioning a new life.

It took a huge amount of energy to change it around, shifting one word out, and bringing a new in, struggling to recreate images to illustrate the words, but, eventually, I found myself satisfied, and I fell back out his mind, blown back to reality again, stumbling as I tumbled backwards, caught by Eragon, whose face had gone pale as he beheld the King, who was gasping and shaking, his face bruised and scarred with blotches of tears as the pain of change wracked him in mind, spirit and body. Eragon's strong arms were entwined with my own, but I could barely feel them. He held my head against my chest, muttering furiously, "What in the Gods' name did you just do? Try and commit suicide?"

I smiled weakly, and croaked, "No. I tried to change his true name." I slumped further into his arms, "And I think I succeeded."

He scowled, irritated, "Let me be the judge of that." He laid me down gently on the ground, and wielded his sword. I reached for my own in case he was attacked beyond his abilities, yet the King, at first, seemed to not notice him; however, he did lazily get up into a crouch, a languid expression on his face as he looked up at Eragon, a sight so bizarre I wanted to giggle. Yet the urge was quashed when Eragon reached our his blade towards the King, making his Majesty bound upwards and bring his sword out with a hiss. And so they began to duel, at a pace beyond the speed of sound, as the next bow was administered after the sound of the previous one reached me. I dared not interfere, until it was necessary, for fear of having my head cut off by accident, and so I crept over to Murtagh, and began healing his wounds, daring myself to take off his armour and undo his jerkin to administer his chest, and I flushed slightly as I did so, and quickly moved onto his arms and legs, which needed less attention, but embarrassed me far less.

Suddenly, I heard a catastrophic boom behind me, and I snapped round, holding my sword aloft, ready to cast a spell, feeling the magic rise to the roof of my consciousness, a dragon ready to take flight. I could hear Emereldo, Saphira and Murtagh's dragon roar in fury at the arrival, and they suddenly surged forwards, narrowly flattening the still duelling Eragon and the King, and I saw that a huge black dragon, with little shimmers of moonlight upon him, had smashed the door open, and gave a curious squeak, despite his intimidating appearance, and I could hear him being chivvied outside by the three young dragons, for a badly matched battle.

_Now this is what I call a hunt! It shall be like hunting wolves; the predator becomes the hunted! _

I could not help but laugh at that, however sadly, as I watched them fade down the corridor, and I felt my mind wander...but only a little. With a near fatal clash of metal against metal, a woman's scream from the past, Eragon fell to the ground at the feet of the King, and he turned to me, his eyes gleaming, Brisingr in his hand...I gripped my own sword, Evandar, and mentally called for him to help me; even though he would be loath to do so, he would like the idea of nuking the King, and one cannot deny the dead a little bit of fun beyond the grave. It was my turn to duel.

Our blades were lightning, if the clashes were thunder. We made attacks after attacks, striking desperately, our strengths far too similar to gain dominance, even when I made wild snatches for Brisingr. I could see the malice in his eyes, and I could swear that I was being dragged off to the gates themselves by a malicious jester. I growled at this thought, annoyed, until I thought of how they would spring around, juggling torches lit with laughing flames, and how they balanced themselves when doing so...Knowing full well what I was doing was foolish, and the consequences severe, I leaned back, and, parrying a blow, stepped underneath him and with my hands slammed on the ground, kicked up with my legs. A very inelegant position, especially as he lolled with a groan onto the floor, partially atop my legs, making my nose wrinkle with disgust, and I wriggled away, sword at the ready, snatching Brisingr out of his hands...

I looked up, and saw a curious sight; two people, a man and a woman dashing towards me. I blinked, and then berated myself for not knowing who they were. They looked at me, and I nodded at them; we don't agree with it either, they seemed to say, but we must do it, sister.

Without any further debate, the first word that came to all our head was _Brisingr._

The funeral pyre was lit, and we were the only attendees, two unconscious.

(One week later.)

I stand here now, where it all began, which isn't my old bedroom, nor is it the Little Forest, and nor is it even amongst the Varden. No, where I stand is a place I have never been, but I knew it instantly. Its crumbling battlements still hold firm after all these years, its cavernous rooms drawing your breath away like beautiful dragons dormant for a hundred years...

I had come here to see if it was suitable for living in. Nasuada, who, by, popular demand, was elected to be Queen of Alagaësia, yet she found the palace at Ûru'baen "concentrated more on poncy farces than true leadership". I grinned when I remembered the words, and how the rest of her council reacted, and had obviously hoped for the substantial halls to grow lazy within...Yet they weren't there when the King died; if they were, they would have known to not even dare wish for it...

Apparently, that day, within the Vault of the Souls, I had fainted from the shock of using the magic upon a man whose mind had closely connected with my own, of which a similar affliction affected Murtagh and his dragon, who I know now to be called Thorn (an intriguing name, do you not think?), as the magic upon them died with the magician. Eventually, I awoke, as did he, and I almost cringed with the irony when I saw that Murtagh's head was bandaged, scared that events would repeat themselves...but he did no such thing yesterday. His mind is preoccupied with others things, rather than something as distracting, rather like a little bluebottle, as love. Perhaps.

"Tamunora? Where are you?" I hear a soft voice in the room next to me, and I feel sunshine beam on my face; the rain had arrived, and I am thirsty.

"In here, Eragon." His head appears through the doorway, followed by the rest of his body, and he strode towards me, the man I find it hard to imagine my life without. His serious face was stroked by the rainbow, as his rain was washed away by sunshine, "You look incurably happy." I tease.

"That's because I am." He reaches his arms around my shoulders, and holds me close, and I can sense he is looking out of the window, and I imitate, peering through the mottled glass. I can see wild streaks of sunset racing each across the sky, enjoying the autumn weather. Ocotbr is in its middle age now, in limbo between the past, and the future, just like us, on the brink of an entirely new existence...

"Hey, you two lovers, how come I'm not included in the fun?" Comes a cheerful but mocking voice from the doorway. Murtagh leans against the doorway, grinning at us widely, "Be careful that you treat her well, brother; we will have to live together now. No longer can you brush me aside as _The Enemy_."

I pull away from Eragon gently, and approach Murtagh, my eyes feeling soft and wide, "Murtagh, you were never an enemy to us. In fact, no person was ever anyone's enemy; its the wolves inside that are our enemies." I take Eragon's hand, and Murtagh's, and in silence, as we turn over those words, we left Vroengard to rejoin our dragons. Emereldo gives me a wry expression; _You look like you can't decide between two, and you had to go for both!_

I winked at him. _No, I'd still always choose you, Emereldo. _I break from their hands, and leap upon Emereldo's back, as do Eragon and Murtagh, ready to take just another journey, and a paltry one to what we have had to do before.

_Every journey counts, Tamunora. _Yawned Emereldo. _You just need to see how._

_As does everything, everyone and...? What's the third one?_

_Definitely not every silly abstract summary ones Rider comes up with. The point is, you, at the beginning of your last journey, didn't have a hope in a cooking pot to defeat the King. Yet last week, at the end of the journey, you crumpled his manhood, thus crumpling his regime, his plans, his dreams...you have become a hard woman, Tamunora._

I smile grimly. _Those who do usually survive._

_And those who called Brisingr...an odd word that. I breathe it out, but the word does not truly mean anything to me – it's a mere idle word off the tongue._

I allow the sky to wash over my face, barely even a cloud of any sorts, let alone a storm cloud, , to be seen, as the light opened up every little passage to my soul. _Right, so let's agree on this; every word is idle when coming off the tongue, but when it comes from the heart –_

_You mean, the lungs, really._

_Shush. When it comes from the heart, it finally means something._

_Now you're speaking some sense...Tamunora, do you think Saphira loves me?_

_What? How is that connected?_

_Well...she and Thorn...it could happen, you know..._I felt his mood become rather forlorn, and I became sympathetic.

_As long as Eragon loves me, she will love you. As long as she loves you, Eragon loves me, and it's the same, pretty much, for us, and it may always be, as Murtagh and Eragon don't see their love in that way...unless they do, and they're not telling me._

_Is that the next journey? _Emereldo's mood lightened. _Will there be fighting?_

_Oh, I'm sure there will be..._Doubts cold not touch us now, however, as we wallowed in a pool of peace, the water soaking into our skin, aging us with the lulling wisdom that came with it...


	22. Epilogue of some sorts

_(If you wish to spare the time, you can see a picture I drew of Tamunora here _.com/art/Tamunora-142619447 .)

**The Last Door**

The quill is relaxed in my hand, as light and free as it was when it was upon a bird's back, soaring into liquid ink blue skies, a rush of air ruffling it gently, as the bird cries a jubilant cry for the miracle of its life. No longer is my hand cluttered with a weapon; the most potent weapon I have is this quill, my new sword. I lay down Evandar to my quiet solace, which is my memory, and I begin to forge something else; scholarly Tamunora, fit to teach young Riders the true meaning of their identities.

I can't help but peek around the room I sit in, and revel in the light trickling in, diffusing through the still, calm air like a soft breeze upon a mountain top. The walls are a soft meadow green, the floors wooden and silently creaking from age, with simple but rich carpets lounged out like humble dogs, and solemn furniture, steeping in age, including an armchair, where I suspect Vrael himself sat when my own age. I see all this, and I can't help but note in pride of how far I had come in only a year, and still only in my seventeenth year.

A warm rush of breath behind me reminded me of Emereldo's constant presence, and he was sleeping, so much larger than he was when he was last resting in a bedroom, curled up upon my bed, barely larger than a sleek cat, yet now spanning the width of the bedroom, his tail so thick and strong he could trash the room with one swipe. I could sense his dreams, and I feel my nose wrinkle; he was dreaming about _Saphira _again. However, I can't really speak in such a manner, as I dream excessively of Eragon...only perhaps less explicitly.

A gentle tap, like a little trickle of rain upon a wooden roof, sounds, which forces me from my seat to open the door, and I smile at who has arrived. He smiles nervously at me, and I let him past into my room. He strides around the room, stopping occasionally to look at something, and I watch him wander around with a perfect sense of peace, his fluid movements entertainment enough for me. Eventually, he cannot ignore me for much longer. He meets my eyes, clears his throat, and asks, a voice masquerading casualness,

"How are you, Tamunora?"

I gave him a mock curtsey, "So well that a dragon could be jealous."

He grinned at the cheek, "Careful. Saphira or Emereldo would torch you for that."

"Not Thorn? Surely he would want to cook me also?"

"No...He doesn't do much listening or talking..."

"That's hardly surprising. But, he's got time, Eragon, as has Murtagh. Personally, I find the transformation of the pair surprisingly quick."

Eragon frowns, "Yes, I wonder how that happened." He gave me an intense expression, which I merely responded in kind. He sighed, "I won't get the answer out of you, will I?"

"No, you won't." I beamed at him, "Besides, why do you need to know? You know yours now...speaking of which, I must know what it is! Is it supremely embarrassing?"

He nods, colouring, "Yes...yes it is." He is not forthcoming, so I drop the subject, and nod at the pile of scrolls upon my desk which I have just vacated.

"I've been writing." I state, "I hope you don't mind that I wrote it from my point of view...it doesn't have that much about you in it, I'm afraid. Or, at least, as much as I think there should be."

He picks up the first scroll, and mouths the words upon it, suppressing an eruption of laughing, earthquakes tremoring across the surface of his body as he held it in. I flush at his reaction, and I rush forwards, intent on snatching it out of his hand. Yet despite my height advantage over him, he manages to keep it out of my reach to read all of it, prancing around the room, smacking at each other in a very inelegant brawl. Finally, I managed to grab him by the waist, making him gasp and drop the scroll, which I picked up with a swoop. Yet before I can straighten, he clasps my right hand, and spins me around, so my back now is up against his chest, and I am gazing up into those hazel eyes, filled with such warmth.

"Tamunora...I didn't laugh because it was terrible – it was possibly better than what I wrote for the Agaetí Blödhren, and longer too – I laughed because of what you were like back then."

_What? _"Let's see..." I skim through the scroll, and wince when I see Eragon's name, "Oh aye...that. I definitely have changed."

"That you have, Tamunora." He whispered in my ear, "That you have." He kissed my neck, and took the scroll, placing it onto a chair, and began dancing with me around the room, like a stag leading a deer. It has been a while since either of us has danced, but it all comes back with ease, like a forgotten but beloved memory. We tip toe in the dazzling sunlight that day, eventually being dappled in rain as the Autumn rains began to scrub the land of the searingly hot summer night that burnt our hearts away, scorched our sanity to ruins, and thus endangered the lives of thousands...now, the rain comes to calm it all down. A rainbow peeks in the distance, a nervous sign of peace.

"Hey, Eragon, look." I murmur, pointing out of the window.

He nodded, "I see it."

"And I see all. Catch up with the changing times, Eragon!"

"Aye. I think I will." And so we two lovers, if we can call ourselves that, watch the arm of peace take us all in the sweetest embrace of them all...

THE END

**Postscript**

Aiedail is reunited with her dragon Feldór, and they spend the rest of their days tutoring the next generation of dragons and their riders.

I shan't both with couple descriptions; they're fairly obvious, to be honest...

Tamunora becomes a commander in the Urgal tribes, and manages to make them tweak the rules, so they defeat their opponents for glory, rather than kill, so the peace agreement remains in place.

Eragon, similarly, is made a commander in the dwarf army, but since the end of the war...there isn't much to do!

Emereldo and Saphira produce six eggs together, whilst Saphira and Thorn produce three. What? The threat of extinction = absolutely no monogamy!

Tamunora's parents and her brother settle down in as normal pose as they can...yes Jeod does marry Arya...and yes, it was a random thing (lol)

And finally...who wants a round two??? (I have plotted out a sequel – he he anal)

Thank you Eragon Bromsson, Zoe Montez, Solangedrama, MegElemental, IttyBittyTinyKitty, Avarenda, twightfan0101 (someone who is a fan of twilight not reading a Cullen fan fiction??? Lol!), 'some one', bushes283, histoire merveilleuse (OMG! Someone with a French pen name! YAY!) maxridepercyjacksonpotter, and The Storm's Rainbow, for submitting very kind and encouraging reviews...despite the flaws lol and only one damning review! I wonder who that person was...? Anyways, now this fan fiction is over, I shall have to get back to work...ah yes...hmmm *begins to write another fan fiction* it shall have to wait...

Also, hugest of thank yous to anybody who gave up the time to actually bloody read this :D Because, well, it was one of the reasons I put it up

Bon nuit pour tout le monde, tout les fromages, tout les temps...  
(Good night for everyone, all cheeses, forever...)

M. Helium (Long winded stuff is completely my style!)


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